On My Own
by ecb327
Summary: A Finchel fic. Rachel and Finn had a baby in their senior year, but Rachel decides that she's too ambitious to be a good mother. 15 years later, and Finn and Rachel still think about their daughter, and vice versa. One call changes everything. This is the story of two people navigating uncharted territory in their relationship, and a search for family.
1. Chapter 1

**This is a Finchel fanfic. The premise of the story, as will be revealed later, is that Rachel and Finn have a baby together, a little girl. However, Rachel is too ambitious and believes that it wouldn't be fair to keep her. Without actually sending them, the girl, Rachel,**_**and**_**Finn all write letters to each other (Rachel and Finn to their daughter), none of them aware that they're doing. This fic will be interspersed with flashbacks as well.**

I don't know how to start this letter. You're not my mom and dad, not really. You're not my friends. You're… I don't know who you are.

My therapist told me to write this letter. She says that I've spent my entire life being mad at you for leaving me, when I can't jump to conclusions about the circumstances around my birth. So I decided that I should do this, even though I don't want to at all.

Oh, hell, what am I thinking? It's not like you'll ever read this. Maybe I should introduce myself first, like it's the first time we're meeting.

Hi. My name is Almana Lewis. I make people call me Allie, though, except my grandparents. I'm fifteen years old and I'm a sophomore in school. I live in the northeast, but I won't say where because I don't want you to know me that well.

Maybe I should just quit beating around the bush and get to the damn point.

I'm mad at you. More than mad. I'm really, really pissed off that you left me. Why in the world would you leave me? Did you know that I'm a pretty good singer? Yeah. But I suck at dancing. Based on genetics, that's probably your fault. One of you was a good singer, I bet.

And I'm not ugly, you know. I mean, I'm not blond and gorgeous or anything, and I'm kind of on the short side, but I'm not hideous. Why would you leave me? I'm fairly talented and I like to think I'm a good person, even if I can be selfish sometimes. So why did you _leave_ me? Why would you want to leave me?

Ugh, there I go again. Whenever things get serious, I always end up becoming this arrogant bitch. I'm really not like that. And okay, you'd better not tell anyone I said this, but I know I'm really insecure. And it's probably all your fault.

I hate you. But I love you. It's so screwed up. I don't understand it. It's like… just walking down the street, I feel like there's this invisible string that's tugging at me, and that string is connected to you. I have so many questions for you.

I said I was furious. I've definitely drawn pictures of you and ripped them to shreds. Inside, though, I'm just this hurt little girl. I know you gave me what you thought I needed. I guess I probably wouldn't have had a good life if I stayed with you. But why didn't you just give me a chance?

Maybe I should just ask my questions and get this over with.

Okay. My first question, before the big one, is if you two are still together. Are you? I'd feel awful if I knew that you guys broke up because of me. I've seen all the teen dramas and while I know they're mostly made up of shallow drama queens who feel compelled to live vicariously through on-screen Barbie dolls, it always makes me wonder. What was your relationship like? How did you two even meet? What happened? Was I a mistake? Did you really love each other? Did you love _me_? I don't know if I could stand it if I thought I was the result of a one-night stand between two brainless populars.

My second question is the big one. WHY? Why did you leave me? What happened to make you decide that? Did you ever consider, you know… abortion? Did you know, when you were pregnant, that you were going to put me up for adoption?

I don't understand. You gave me an okay life. I'm a good student, and like I said, I'm good at singing. I played the lead in our high school production of _West Side Story_, which is a first for a sophomore. My parents aren't too bad either. I mean, my mom is kind of a control freak, but I can live with that. My dad's really cool. But all the time, when I'm really mad at them, which happens a lot because of hormones or some shit, I always want _you_. I imagine that you come to me, and you hold me in your arms, and tell me that everything is going to be okay. Is that really too much to ask?

All I want is a name. All I want is a picture. Was it in purpose that you didn't tell the hospital _anything_ about me? You didn't fill out any paperwork, and they won't even let me see your last name. Are you guys married? Do I have siblings?

God, I have so many questions. And they're _never_ going to be answered. I hate you and I love you. I hate you because you caused me pain, and I love you because you're in my blood and why shouldn't I?

You know one of the dumbest things about this? It's that what bugs me the most is that nobody I know looks like me. Everyone around me, they have siblings or cousins or something that they can be like, "Oh, she has my nose" or "Oh, look, she and my brother and I have the same eyes!" Not me. That's why a picture would mean so much. It'd be like I finally understood where I came from and who gave me this face and body.

I'm going to end this letter here, because I'm doing this in study hall and the bell's about to ring and I can't be late to rehearsal. I really don't see the point of this, except maybe I hate you a little less. Still… well, goodbye, whoever you are. I can't say that I love you, because that's cheesy, but I miss you. Is it possible to miss something you've never even had? I think it is.

Missing you,

Allie Lewis

**So what did you think? Do you think I should continue with the next chapter being a flashback, and then maybe Rachel or Finn's letter to Allie? Please review!**


	2. Chapter 2

**This is a flashback, obviously to when Rachel told Finn she was pregnant.**

Finn

She was leaning against my locker when I came out of the library, dark brown hair spilling out against the metal door.

"Hey, Rach," I said, reaching to hug her. Something in her eyes wasn't right, though. They looked frozen. "Um… what's the matter?"

"I'm pregnant," she said.

It was like déjà vu all over again. Only this time, she was Rachel Berry, and I loved her, and yes, we'd actually had sex so it made more sense than Quinn's story. Still, I was numb for a few seconds.

"Wha – um – I – what? Wait – Rachel – _what?_" I fell back against the wall, trying to piece out what I was feeling.

"I'm so sorry, Finn," she whispered, reaching to lay a hand gently on my cheek. "I… I don't know what happened."

"Wait." I leaned closer, lowering my voice. "Wait, did it – you know – did it, um, _break_ or something?"

"What?" She looked blankly at me. "Oh, no, I don't know."

"And you're… positive about this?"

"I took a pregnancy test this morning. I was really hoping it wasn't true but it was. I don't know what we're going to do!"

_Calm down_, I told myself. It would be different this time. For one, Puck was in juvie for the hundredth time, so it was definitely mine. And we were seniors now. We could handle this better than me and Quinn did. And Rachel needed me right now. Her lower lip was quivering and I knew she was going to burst into tears at any moment, so instead I took both her hands in one of mine.

"It'll be okay," I said, nodding in an attempt to reassure myself. "Look, we'll tell my mom. She and Burt will be really good about it. I promise I'll do it right, Rachel. I love you."

Those beautiful eyes gazed up at me. "Y-you really mean that?" she said, and I could feel her body relax a little.

"Yeah, I do," I said, wrapping my arms around her and kissing her forehead gently. "I promise."

But two days later and I was re-thinking all of this. Granted, I didn't have to put up with constant insults, so that was a plus. Unfortunately, my plan to tell Mom about it didn't go so well, as she decided to freak out and suggest that Rachel come live with us. I knew she meant well, but there was that unspoken question: were we going to keep it?

I didn't want to upset Rachel, especially since she had yet to tell her dads, but it was really getting to me. I didn't want to talk to anybody in Glee for fear of Rachel becoming even more disliked, and Mr. Schue was working through a lot with Emma, so I was pretty much on my own. Don't get me wrong: I felt proud. I knew that Rachel loved me, and god, I'd do anything for that girl. The fact that she was having my – our – baby meant the world to me.

But we were just eighteen. We couldn't be expected to raise a child… could we?

Thankfully, just when I was about to have a mental breakdown, Rachel spoke up.

We were lying down on my bed; I'd just come home and crashed after football practice. When I woke up, her hand was intertwined in mine and she was leaning against my shoulder.

"Hey," she said softly.

"Hi," I replied, leaning in for a kiss. She backed away, though, holding out her hand between us.

"No, wait, Finn."

"What is it?"

"I… I'm such an idiot." She slid out of bed and started pacing.

"Rach, no, don't – you're not an idiot!" I moved so I was sitting up, and wiped sleep from my eyes.

"Finn, I've tried to convince myself, I really have, but I have to face the truth. _We_ have to face the truth. We can't raise a baby. I mean, my dads don't even know, and I don't know how that'll work out, but we can't do it."

"I know," I said, sighing. "But I… I love her already, Rachel. She's a part of you, a part of us."

"I know. Me too." She took my hand again. "We have to put her up for adoption."

"Why?" I asked dumbly. "I mean, how?"

"Yes. That's it!" Rachel took on that crazed look she always did when an idea was occurring to her. "This is perfect. I'm too ambitious, don't you understand? I don't want to raise her on the go. That's not fair to anyone. She'll probably try to find me someday, but what if I'm like Shelby and – and she hates me?" Her voice got much smaller. "Oh, Finn, we _have_ to make it so she can't find me. As much as it would kill us, it's for the best. She can live a good life without stressing about who we are or what we're doing. Right?"

"I… I mean, I guess…" I couldn't help but feel a little disappointment. Sure, I was clumsy, and to be honest I'd never actually held a baby, but I felt like she'd be just perfect. And this time I wasn't going to sing to a sonogram. That was with Quinn. This baby deserved much better than that. Right then, I knew that no matter what, wherever I was, she'd always be a part of me. I'd always love her, and be there for her, even when she didn't know it. "It's okay," I said quietly to Rachel. "It'll be fine. We'll give her up for adoption."

"I love you, Finn," she whispered, and when I said "I love you too" it was the most I'd ever meant it.

**So did you like it? Next chapter I think it'll be either another flashback from Rachel, or Finn's letter to Allie.**


	3. Chapter 3

**I'm thrilled by the amount of emails from that I'm getting, haha. Thanks so much for your support! Also please check out my other fics. I'm still working on updating them, probably this weekend, but take a look. In this chapter, I decided to write Rachel's letter. I'm trying to make Allie's, Rachel's, and Finn's voices different, although Allie is going to sound a lot like Rachel.**

I can't start this with "Dear" something, because I don't know who you are or where you are.

The first thing I want you to know is that I'm proud of you. Prouder than proud. Knowing me, I'm sure you're a star singer, and probably misunderstood and hated for your brilliant personality. It was like that for me in high school, too.

The second thing I want you to know is… I'm sorry. I can't believe I gave you up, after all I'd been through. The thing is, my biological mother put me up for adoption too. It hurt, especially when I met her and we didn't click. It just felt wrong. I want you to know that you're a special part in my heart. I'm sure you have a wonderful family now. Love them. They're always there for you, because they love you. I'm always here for you too.

You're probably wondering who I am, so here goes.

My name is Rachel Berry. I went to NYADA and now, eleven years after graduating there, my stardom has been a bit toned down. I used to be an insufferable know-it-all with an obsession with rising to the top. I still am, at heart, but I've learned that sometimes a little goes a long way. It took years of hard work and rejection letters to help me understand that.

To answer the inevitable question, yes. Your biological father and I are still together. His name is Finn Hudson, and he's the love of my life. He's the most amazing guy you could ever want, and I know that he would be an incredible father for you, if we kept you.

Damn, that sounds bad. It sounds like we left you on purpose. Trust me, it was painful. I cried, and so did Finn. After we signed all the paperwork and they took you away, we just held each other and cried. You were such a beautiful baby, with my brown eyes and Finn's lopsided smile. The only consolation we had was that you would be given many more opportunities than we could ever give you.

I don't have any children now. Finn and I talk about it sometimes, but we're both so young. We never fully got over losing you.

I'm so proud of you. Really. Sometimes I imagine that you are there, that I could see you, and try to imagine what you must look like now. I was your age when I met Finn. Trust me, there was drama between us. A lot of drama. Tons of break-ups, and fights, and shooting each other down… but we defeated it in the end. He proposed on your fifteenth birthday. He says that it wasn't on purpose, but I think it was.

It was a way of bringing the cycle back around. A sense of closure. We'll never forget you, okay? And I hope I'm still on your mind sometimes. If we ever get to meet… don't call me Mom. Call me Rachel. And maybe you can meet your grandmother Shelby and your aunt Beth and your uncle Kurt.

I don't know what even possessed me to sit down and write this letter. It just felt like something I had to do. So I'm going to fold this up and tuck this away in the shoebox that has your hospital ID bracelet and a DVD of your first sonogram. Maybe someday you'll read it.

Until then,

Rachel Berry

**So what do you think? I think it was a little bit shorter than Allie's letter was. Next I'm probably going to do a bit from Allie's point of view, like a day in her life, to see what it's like. After that, it'll probably be Finn's letter… and then we'll see. Read and review!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Thanks so much, keep reviewing and I'll keep writing! This is a two-parter, half Allie, half Finn. Enjoy!**

Allie

"I _hate_ you!" I scream, clenching the banister's rough wood in my left hand. Mom and Dad both stand at the foot of the stair, arms crossed. "Just… just leave me alone, for god's sake! I wish you'd just abandon me! I wish you'd just leave me alone for once in your life! God, I wish you'd _never_ adopted me!"

"Allie, you know you don't mean that," Mom says, her face a little paler than usual and sounding exhausted. For a split second, I feel guilty, but then I lose myself in the injustice again.

"You think you can just do _whatever_ you want without asking me first! Well guess what? I won't take it anymore! That's it! I'm leaving!"

Dad gives a short bark of laughter. "Yeah, let's see how long that lasts," he says, turning to sarcasm as usual whenever things get serious.

"Shut up," I snap, resisting the urge to throw something. "You're not my real parents. My real parents wouldn't do this. You'll _never_ be my real parents!" A sob escapes my chest and, eyes stinging with fury, I stamp my foot on the stair, whirl around, and storm upstairs.

When I wrench open the door to my room and collapse against my Barbara Streisand poster, it hits me. I have to do whatever I can to find my biological parents. I won't rest until I do. It's not that I love my adoptive parents any less; ruefully, I admit to myself that I over-reacted and plan to apologize later, but more than that, I can't live like this anymore. The anger I've felt since writing that letter, paired with the sense of hopelessness, is _not_ something Almana Lewis will stand for. No, I pledge, crossing my room and grabbing my laptop, I will _never_ give up until I find out who they are and where they live.

I type a few things onto my computer and there it is: contact information for my orphanage. I grab the phone and dial.

Finn

When I open the door to me and Rachel's apartment, nobody's there. Usually she's curled up on the couch, reading or watching a movie, but instead there's a Post-It note on the kitchen counter. I leave the grocery bags by the refrigerator and read what it says.

_Finn-_

_Got a call from the hospital. Went for a run to calm down. Be back by 7._

_I love you._

_-Rachel_

Immediately, panic builds in my throat. First of all, Rachel doesn't usually sign notes off with "I love you". I do that, but she doesn't. The only times she does is when she knows something that involves me. Second of all, the mention of a hospital makes me want to scream. She's going for a run, so she must be okay, right? Then what in the world could it be? She can't be pregnant. Oh my god, what if she's pregnant again?

Blood pumping, I snatch the keys up again from their spot by the door and sprint to the car. Rachel is a total idiot if she thinks I don't know the route she always runs. I know everything about her, even things she doesn't know – the way her eyelashes flutter when she sleeps, the rise and fall of her chest when she breathes, the look she gets when she's determined.

Five minutes later, and I see her: a hunched-up figure on a park bench. Jumping out of the car, I unzip my jacket as I run over to her. She's wearing a black tank top and it's getting cold.

"I thought you'd come," she says, without looking up. I nod silently and wrap my coat around her goose-bumped shoulders.

"What is it?" I ask, sitting down next to her. She leans against my chest, a comforting warmth I can't live without.

"Oh, Finn…"

"What?" I repeat urgently, trying not to sound forceful. "Are you hurt?" What I really mean is _are you pregnant?_but somehow the words won't form themselves in my mouth.

"No, no, I'm fine. It's not me. It's – oh, Finn, I was such an idiot!"

Déjà vu again. That's what she said when she told me about the baby. "What is it?"

She looks at me. "Apparently," she says, smoothing down her hair and taking a shaky breath, "the hospital got a call a few hours ago. From the orphanage where, apparently, they took her."

When she says that, I know instantly what she's talking about. Her. Our beautiful baby. "And?"

"And… and she's looking for us. She called the orphanage and they called the hospital and they called – they called me." With another shuddering breath, she takes my hands in hers. I can feel her pulse racing.

"Do you have any other information?" I ask, hearing my voice go husky. I can't cry, not in front of Rachel, who needs me. We're not high schoolers anymore. We're adults, and we have to be strong. If she crumbles, I break.

"No. They won't give me a name. Some confidentiality thing."

"What are we – what do they expect us to do?"

"Nothing. They just wanted to let us know. I hung up on them by mistake, I was in such a shock. I just wrote the note and came over here. I've been waiting for you for half an hour."

She knew I would come. My heart almost breaks at how young her voice sounds. How is it possible that the re-appearance of just one little girl – no, she'd be fifteen now, I remind myself – could alter life for us so much? Suddenly all our secret hopes and dreams seem so much more real.

"I love you, Rach. Nothing will change it," I say, even though that's not what she's worried about right now. I don't know what else to do, so I lean forward and kiss her gently.

"I hope so," she says, wrapping her arms around my waist and closing her eyes. "I really, really hope so."

"So do I," I whisper, and we both stay there, on the bench, as the sun slowly sets.

**Okay, cheesy ending, I know. But I love cheesy when it's Finchel. Tell me what you think and what you want to see in the next few chapters!**


	5. Chapter 5

**I'm so pleased that I'm getting so much positive feedback. Really, it makes me feel so great! If I'm being honest, I wrote this because I'm a fourteen year old girl adopted from China, and I feel almost the same pain that Allie does, plus I just love Finchel, so yeah. A lot of this comes from me, which is why I'm so thrilled at all the positive feedback this is getting. It means a lot to me. Thanks!**

Dear _,

I know you don't know me. But you just called me. Well, not me, us. Me and your – me and my fiancée Rachel. Yeah. You didn't really call us. But you called the orphanage that you were sent to, and then they called the hospital, who called us, so it's like you called us.

Sorry. I should start over. I sound like an idiot. That's what I used to sound like around Rachel. Um, I guess I wrote this because… well, if we ever get to meet you, I want you to have the answers, and the right ones. So don't jump to conclusions, okay? Please don't. I'm begging you not to. Don't think badly of us 'cause we left you. We beat ourselves up about it enough.

Since you'll probably never read this, I guess it wouldn't hurt to just tell you everything.

Okay, here goes.

I met Rachel when she was fifteen. I think that's how old you are now. Anyway, I was with this cheerleader, Quinn, at the time, but me and Rachel kind of liked each other. Except then, Quinn cheated on me with my best friend Puck, and… and she got, like, pregnant, but she said the baby was mine, and we were planning to put it up for adoption and everything.

I felt for that baby. I know it wasn't mine, but I still felt for it when I thought it was. What I felt for you, when I knew a few years later that it truly was me and Rachel's baby, was so different. It was more intense.

I'm always there for you. All you have to do is ask. I know it's a long process to get information on this stuff, and I don't even know how you get the info about the hospital so fast, but I promise, if I meet you, I'll be there for you.

Except you have parents. I know that. Rachel knows that. We don't want to become your parents. You already have them, and you love them. We don't want you to come live with us forever or something. But it would be nice to be in your life. We'd like that. Especially Rachel. I bet you look like her. She's the prettiest girl I've ever seen in my entire life.

So think of us as special parents. We aren't really parents, and we never will be, but "friends" sounds stupid, and we're better than god-parents or something.

I must seem really dumb right now, just sitting here and writing a letter I'll never send. I don't even know your name. All I know is you're my perfect baby girl, and you always will be. I think, even if me and Rach ever have more kids… you'll always be with us. We will never "get over" losing you, even though it was by choice.

Honestly, we both hated it. But Rachel was right. Taking care of a baby while she was going to college and all that just wasn't fair to the baby. It wasn't good for any of us. That's why we gave you up for adoption. I really really really hope to death that you have a good life now.

Also, I want to assure you that what Rachel and I had was real. We're still together. We loved each other when you were born. We never broke up. You weren't a mistake, not really. I mean, we weren't, like, intending to have a baby, but I think a mistake really has to be, you know… like with me and Quinn, when we didn't really love each other and even if we were thirty it still would have been a mistake. If we were older, or if Rach and me weren't off to college, then we'd still have you in our family. It just didn't work out like that.

Well, anyway. I remember when Rachel found her biological mom, Shelby. They're both wicked good singers. I bet you are too. Me and Rachel met in the Glee club at our school. I fell in love with her on-stage first, and then off-stage too. I hope you're doing what you love to do, and that you have your own version of Glee, whatever it is.

I hope someday we'll get the opportunity to meet you and hear your voice and see what you look like and what you've become. But even if you don't, I'm always here for you. A special kind of dad.

-Finn Hudson

**How do you like it? Please let me know and review! Every time someone reviews, I update it, so if you want more keep reviewing!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Thanks for all the reviews! Really, they make my day so keep it up. I was listening to the song**_**Shakespeare**_**, by Miranda Cosgrove, and as I was hearing the lyrics I immediately thought of Finchel for whatever reason. So, here's the next little installment of this fanfic.**

_Do you like Shakespeare, Jeff Buckley_

_Watching movies on Sunday?_

_Do you like kissing when it's raining_

_Making faces in the station?_

_Do you like, I need to know_

_What do you like, before you go?_

Rachel

A week passed, then another, and suddenly it had been a month and I couldn't take it anymore. Neither, I think, could Finn, but he was too much of a good person to push me to do anything. I waited until he came home one day before speaking up.

"Hey, Rach," he said, grabbing a bottled water from the fridge and tossing his wallet and keys on the coffee table. "What's on your mind?"

I took a deep breath. "I want to find her," I said in a rush, then waited nervously for his response.

"You're sure about this?"

"Yeah. I just… now that I know she wants us, or she wants to know who we are, it doesn't feel right, to leave her hanging. To leave _us_ hanging."

"I agree," he said almost at once, and a rush of deep gratitude shot through me. Looking at him, even though he was no longer the youthful teenager I fell in love with, I knew how much we cared for each other. I'd do anything for him, and he'd do anything for me.

"I called the hospital again this afternoon," I confessed. "They said that if we want more information, we'll have to go to the orphanage and see what we can get out of them."

"But I thought we didn't know what orphanage they took her to…?"

"…Which is why I have _this_," I said, producing a list on a piece of yellow legal pad paper. "I wrote down the addresses and phone numbers of all the orphanages that that hospital feeds into."

"There's like, almost thirty here!" Finn said, sounding discouraged. "We can't go knocking on all of their doors."

"We won't have to do that necessarily."

"What?"

"Don't you remember this?" I asked, now pulling out a packet of crinkled photocopies.

"Whoa, this is all the paperwork we filled out when we were at the hospital," he said in amazement. "I thought they were long gone!"

"Nope." I thought briefly of that shoebox I kept hidden under a pile of old _Vogue_issues and discarded dance shoes, where I'd always kept this crumpled stack of papers. "Turn to the second-to-last page."

He did, realization slowly dawning on his face. "Oh, man, we wrote all this?"

"Correction: _I_ wrote all this," I said, smiling despite myself. "I wanted her to be put in an orphanage within these parameters, at the time because I knew they had the best arts opportunities, and I know for a fact that not every orphanage on this list sends kids to those places, so we'll have to narrow it down." I hesitated, biting my lip. "I didn't want to do it without you."

He put the papers on the desk and took my hands. "I love you, Rach. We all know you've always been the brains in this outfit, so I can't say I'll be much help with all of the research. I promise, though, that I'm one hundred percent yours, no matter what."

"Thanks, Finn," I said softly.

"It's cool," he said, half-smiling at me. "Hey, tell you what. Before you stress about all this, why don't we do a movie night? I know how much you love watching movies on Sunday."

"Sure," I said, feeling my spirits start to lift already. It was pouring outside anyway, so I wasn't about to go for a run. Instead, I kissed him, savoring his arms around my waist, and headed to the living room. "Oh, what do you want to – " I began, but with a wink he'd already slipped _Funny Girl_ into the DVD player and tugged me over onto the couch next to him.

"I've got it covered," he said, and I leaned against his chest, both of us uncertain of what was in store but equally certain that this moment was perfect.

_You walk me home, so wonderful_

_It starts to snow, it's incredible_

_Now we're walking up my street_

_And you slowly turn to me_

_You're three inches from my lips_

Finn

I love Rachel Berry. I know maybe that sounds lame, but I do. All I know is… when I wake up in the morning, hers is the face I want looking back at me. If I'm upset, I want her arms around me. And in moments of both pride and pain, I want her right there by my side, even if she is really short. And I still feel butterflies when she walks into a room and smiles at me.

We got train tickets to head to New England the following week. It seemed unreal that we were doing this, laying aside the rest of our lives just to go on this search, but we both knew that we wouldn't feel right until we knew something about her.

Then the excitement finally began to overcome fear, and Rachel was nonstop talking as we packed the night before. We'd planned about a ten-day stay in New York City, which would be our home base. From there, we'd travel to the ten orphanages Rachel had skillfully determined were the only possibilities.

It seemed ironic that after all these years that was where we were going. The place where we fell in love again; where that superman of kisses had occurred; where I finally got _Jessie's Girl_.

We walked to the train station at 7 at night in December. It was already dark and was beginning to snow. As we headed down our street, I felt Rachel pause and give a little sigh. When I turned, a single tear was streaming down her cheek.

"Rach, what is it?" I asked, dropping my suitcase to put my mittened hands on her shoulders and ducking my head down to look her in the eye. "What's the matter?"

"I know I'm thirty-three and I shouldn't be feeling like this," she said, wiping away the tear, "but I just… I feel like… oh, Finn, what if this doesn't work? What if we don't find her?"

"Don't worry. It will," I said with all the decisiveness I could muster. _It had to_.

"Really?" she said softly, three inches from my lips.

"Really," I whispered back, and as the snowflakes began to fall faster and thicker, they wrapped around our entwined figures, offering an escape from the world we needed before crossing the threshold into whatever was to come.

**I decided to switch to past tense for this one, so assume that Rachel and Finn are writing this awhile later than it happened. I will switch between tenses, probably, but always for a reason that I'll state. I mainly just want to do something fun and inventive, as if this story is a collection of random diary entries and song lyrics and unsent letters. So what do you think? Review please!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Wow, I am really sorry I've been away for so long. Any of you guys still there? Regardless, I revisited this story and I really like it. I'm gonna keep going. Review!**

The ticket collector admitted a snowy couple just before the doors closed. He looked at them like he looked at each passenger: people-watching was one of the main perks and reasons he'd taken the job. Usually stories didn't pop into his head very quickly, but this time his mind began formulating a background story almost immediately.

He punched their tickets and watched as they slowly took a seat, exhausted and stiff from the snow. As he gave the all-clear and sat down on his little bench near the front of the train, he watched them.

The man was tall and dressed in dark Levi jeans with a worn suede jacket shrugged over a plain gray t-shirt. He had a stature that was neither gangly nor muscular, and for the age the ticket collector surmised he was, his face was impressively youthful.

The woman was a lot shorter, had a petite build, wavy dark hair, and was wearing a red v-neck sweater over a white eyelet blouse and a chambray skirt.  
>As he watched, pretending not to be interested, they murmured softly to each other in words he could not discern. Nonetheless, there was no mistake in the way that they looked at each other: they were, he speculated, long-time lovers - perhaps even spouses - tired from... what? <p>

They were not carrying heavy baggage, nor were they in clothing that would intimate a long journey prior to boarding (the woman was wearing nude pumps and the man simple black loafers), so the tiredness must be from some other source. An internal one? 

He mulled it over as the train sped over tracks, bumping slightly from side to side. The two continued to whisper to each other, both looking wearied, until the woman drifted off to sleep, curled against the man's chest. When he looked up at the ticket collector, they made eye contact; he gave a small shrug and a crooked, rueful smile

The ticket collector nodded politely back, brain spinning rapidly. Something was up with this couple: they needed support from each other for some reason. Maybe the man – husband? Fiancé? Boyfriend? – was less eager about it than the woman. She seemed more tired. Why would a woman be more tired than a man? He wracked his brains. Were they seeing a sick relative, one that was related to her? Her mother, perhaps? A funeral? No, he reasoned, they'd be dressed in black.

Casually reaching into his pocket while the man looked forlornly out the window, he fanned out the ticket stubs he'd collected. They were the last boarders, so their tickets were conveniently on top. Sneakily, he glanced at their destination. New York City, huh.

What could possibly be there? Broadway? It was something.

Suddenly a face popped into his brain. Just the other day, he and his kids were watching a Christmas special on old performers and where they were today. Yes, he was certain – this woman was on the list. It all matched up.

Getting excited, as though he was solving some sort of mystery, he decided triumphantly that they were returning to the place she was once well-known for whatever reason, and that would explain how drained she appeared. Of course it would be stressful, having to revisit the location of your demise. Although it wasn't much of a demise, he recalled. No, she played a few more minor roles and left without any to-do.

The train rattled on and he watched the couple. The man dozed on and off, but by the time they got to their destination, both were wide awake.

"What if she doesn't remember me?" whispered the woman as they stood up, reaching for their suitcases. The ticket collector froze: that was it! They were seeking out someone that was long-lost.

"I'm scared too, Rach," the man said, clumsily struggling to zip up his jacket. So he knew this person too. Assuming they weren't related by blood, who could be the subject of their anxiety-riddled conversation? Just as they were getting off – the woman, ostensibly named Rachel, thanked the conductor warmly – the ticket collector heard the man finish, "I'm her dad, remember?"

There it was. Whoever Rachel's companion was, they'd had a child together. They didn't look old enough for the girl to be in college, or to have run away, so it must have been some sort of affair where they left her. Teenage pregnancy? It was likely.

A slim Hispanic woman sitting with a blonde exchanged significant looks.

"They didn't even recognize us," the blonde said in confusion. "I thought Rachel and I were best friends."

"Whatever," the other woman said dismissively.

"I heard they had a baby in senior year." The blonde looked around nervously to see if anybody was listening, then leaned in and whispered loudly, "My cat knows everything. He's fat because he has so many secrets."

"Ugh," scoffed the Hispanic, "it doesn't matter. I bet it's not even true. Frankenteen couldn't get a girl pregnant if she removed her eggs and stuck them in front of his face. He knows _nothing_. For god's sake, he thought he got Quinn pregnant in a hot tub." Nonetheless, she craned her neck to see them walk away from the train, then muttered bitterly, "Slut."

His mind reeling, the ticket collector went back to robotically punching tickets. And when an intriguing group of three drastically dissimilar girls speaking in a language he didn't recognize and showing immense bewilderment came onboard, he forgot about Rachel and her mystery man altogether.

**So, thoughts? I thought this would be interesting, just to have a random other point of view, and as you can see, adult Brittany and Santana make a cameo appearance. What would you like to see next? Whose point of view? Let me know in a review.**


	8. Chapter 8

**These are three diary entries: one from Rachel, Finn, and Allie. As they are all musicians, I thought it would be cool if they each wrote a song applying to the situation. I'm a singer/songwriter myself so I thought this would be a fun project. Let me know what you think!**

Allie

Okay, diary, or whatever. I know I don't keep a journal like I'm supposed to, but I thought, why not? I have plenty of crap to talk about.

I'm scared. I'll admit it. I had a huge freak-out the other day and decided it would be a good idea to try and contact my birth parents. Now I regret it, but the damage is done. I haven't heard back from them. I hope it doesn't go anywhere, but I kind of hope it does too.

Kids at school are being so freaking awful. Everyone's been leaving me anonymous messages talking about how I'm stuck up. All I do is try. Singing is the only thing that keeps me sane, and nobody's letting me have that, either.

Sometimes I wonder if my birth mom ever felt the way I do.

_barely 30 degrees, ice is all that i see_

_all the words that they say stick with me every day_

_i'm alone, and a freak, and i don't trust when i speak_

_i'm shaken and confused, what am i supposed to do_

chorus:

_is it too late for answers_

_is it too late for song_

_guess it's too late and all i can say is you were wrong_

_why'd you leave me that day_

_you just shipped me away_

_just please come back, please come back_

_and love me today_

_i sat down at the window, got my journal out_

_wish i knew what love is, what life is about_

_but i don't, you're not here, tell your story, make it clear_

_and love me today_

chorus

_if you'd just turn the key, love me now, soon you'd see_

_i was worth it, i'm your daughter_

_i need your love like i need water_

_you're my mom and my dad, do you ever feel sad, and_

chorus

_tell me why you left that day_

_tell me why you gave me away_

_don't belong here, please come back_

_i don't get it, was i bad_

_just come back, please come back_

_and love me, love me, love me today._

Finn

We took the train to New York City. The ticket collector kept looking at us. I wonder what he knows.

Rachel thought she saw Brittany and Santana on the train. I don't think so. They didn't say hi. But I can't notice anything, because looking for my daughter is the only thing on my mind.

I'm still Frankenteen inside. I'm still tall and you can ask Rachel, she'll tell you that I trip on my feet all the time. Maybe I wouldn't do crazy things like walk down the hallway naked anymore. But I guess what I'm saying is… what if my daughter doesn't like me? What if I'm that awkward dad she never wants her friends to meet?

Except I'm not even her dad. It's so confusing. It's like I've lost someone I never knew, and now they're back from the dead. Ooh, now I freaked myself out.

I don't even know if we'll find her. I think the only thing worse than finding her would be not finding her.

I'm tired. I can't talk today.

_once upon a time, we left you all alone_

_you were always on my mind as we tried to make a home_

_the regrets are piling up and i've had about enough_

_and all i wish is that we'd get you back_

chorus:

_if you'd only tell us what your name is_

_tell us who you are and what your parents said_

_when they told you that they never had you_

_now i'm so scared and i don't know what to do_

_it's like fixing a plate that's full of cracks and_

_all i ever wish is that we'd get you back_

_so we took a snowy train and we tried to mask the pain_

_i don't think it's gonna work, all i know is that you hurt_

'_cause of the mistakes we made that affect you still today_

_and all i wish is that we'd get you back_

chorus

_if i said that i was sorry, would you say don't worry_

_would you scream at me for leaving_

_would you know how much we're grieving_

_if i said that we just want you back_

_would you believe it or would you brush it off as jack_

chorus

_please just tell us, what did they name you_

_if only we knew_

_now i'm scared and you're not coming back_

_what if you come back_

_wish we'd get you back…_

Rachel

Dear Diary,

Remember in high school when I named you Barbara Streisand? I do. You were a hideous glittery pink affair back then. Now you're a modest Moleskin journal. I don't know which I like better.

Thinking about me in high school makes me so much sadder, though. I wonder if she likes Barbara. I wonder if she like gaudy things like overdone stage makeup and sparkly feather boas.

I miss someone I never knew. When you have a child, even if you have to give them up, there's still that hole in your heart. I know that now. It's the same when you adopt. My dads tried to tell me that, to explain why they got so tearful when I went away to NYADA, and I didn't listen. The hole in my heart hadn't grown yet.

Now it has. Now I get it.

_sitting in my hotel room, wishing flowers were in bloom_

_it would be a small relief, seeing color in the leaves_

_but it's gray and black and white_

_and i'm missing you tonight_

chorus:

_try to get it, the candle wick was once lit_

_give me one chance, let me hold your hand_

_i need to be your mother, can't you understand_

_there's a hole now, right where you should be_

_it don't make sense that i would ever ever leave_

_i was foolish, you never deserved it_

_all that i can say is give me one more chance_

chorus

_i missed out on all the baby steps and_

_all the temper tantrums, all the sleepless nights_

_i missed out on loving you the right way_

_and singing you to sleep until the next bright day_

_the candle's burnt now but if you'd only get it_

_you'd see the candle wick was long ago lit_

_give me one chance, all i want is one chance_

_didn't get to hold your hand, can't you understand_

chorus

_oh, darling, can't you understand_

_i need to be your mother, need to hold your hand_

_oh, darling, please just understand_

_i was your first mother, let me hold your hand._

-Rachel

**Tell me what you think! By the time I was trying to write Rachel's song I was pretty tired so the songs might not be the best, although I do have a tune in my head for each of them. This chapter was a lot more challenging to write but I think I really enjoy writing more complex ones and I'd love your input. What format do you want to see next? I was thinking flashbacks, but I love hearing what you have to say.**


	9. Chapter 9

**Yay reviews! Thanks for the positive responses to my newest chapters. I'm going to take your suggestions into account and have some other characters enter the picture.**

"Come on, they're about to close," Kurt said urgently, checking his watch. Next to him, Blaine was juggling three large shopping bags and his phone.

"Sorry, sorry, I know," Blaine said, hurriedly pressing forward in the long line. The two of them were currently taking a coffee break in the midst of an epic, pre-Christmas shopping expedition and Kurt had been dying to make it to Bloomingdale's on Broadway. They finally made it to the front of the queue and Blaine rattled off, "Grande nonfat mocha and a medium drip, please."

Kurt spared only a moment to feel butterflies; he and Blaine had been together for years, yet he still felt the same youthful tingles when he was reminded of how incredible and too good to be true his boyfriend happened to be.

They took their drinks outside, hustling down the street towards their destination, and barely noticed a small teenage girl until they both crashed head-on into her. She gasped as hot coffee sprayed her dark gray pea coat and frantically swatting at it with a Kleenex she produced from the pocket.

"I'm so sorry!" Blaine dropped his bags on the sidewalk. "Here, let me help you."

"Thanks," she said ruefully, inspecting the damage. "D'you think it'll wash out?"

"Probably," he said reassuringly, dabbing water onto a napkin and wiping the lapel. "This is a great jacket, by the way. Bloomingdale's junior section, if I'm correct?"

At the mention of the store, Kurt groaned loudly. Of course, he loved helping others – when it wasn't half an hour before closing for a department store he just so happened to be quite partial to, and their last opportunity to make it downtown.

The girl was smiling by now. Like everyone, she was easily charmed by Blaine's easygoing manner, warm brown eyes, smooth voice, and kind nature. Kurt had to appreciate that, seeing as Blaine was the love of his life. Plus, it _was _the season of giving. So, setting his shopping priorities aside, he stepped in to help.

"Everything okay?" he asked.

"Yeah," the girl replied. Realizing that it was a different person, she shook her wavy hair out of her eyes and held out her hand. "I'm Allie, by the way."

"Kurt Hummel," said Kurt, shaking it. "This is my boyfriend, Blaine Anderson."

"Nice to meet you," said Allie. She shivered in the cold. "Well, um, I'd better get going…"

"Bye!" Kurt waved her off, but Blaine shook his head at him, calling,

"Wait!"

Allie turned around.

"Where are you going? It's way too dark out for a young lady like you to be wandering around Broadway."

She shifted uncomfortably in her chocolate brown Uggs. "I'm just getting some fresh air… y'know… it's winter and all."

"Yeah, I know, but where are your parents?" asked Blaine in concern.

"I – they're – they're not here right now," she stammered.

"You can't be older than thirteen."

She gave him a semi-frosty look. "Fifteen, actually." Then, with a heavy sigh, she conceded, "Okay, okay. My parents don't know I'm out here. They think I'm hanging out with friends – as if I have any." Her bitter tone wasn't lost to either man: it was the sound of a girl resigned to being on the outside for most of her life.

"Why are you lying to them?" Blaine asked gently.

"Because I need to get away. They're driving me insane."

"Parents. I've been there." Blaine gestured to Kurt. "This guy's got it made in the parental department. His dad has a heart of gold and his step-mother's the most caring woman I've ever had the pleasure to meet. We're not all so lucky, though." He hesitated, then looked at Kurt. "Can we buy you a coffee?"

She bit her lip. "I told them I'd be back by 10."

"We've got a car. We'll drive you," said Kurt suddenly. "What?" he asked as Blaine shot him a pleasantly surprised glance.

"What about Bloomingdale's?"

"It's okay." Kurt looked at Allie, who was now shyly staring at the tips of her shoes. "There's always another day."

"Then it's a plan," Blaine said, opening the door of the coffee shop once more. "And this time we promise not to spill our drinks on you."

Over the next twenty minutes or so, Kurt and Blaine learned a great deal about Allie. Initially, she was stubbornly silent – a reasonable response to two random strangers all but scalding her and then offering her a ride home. Gradually, though, she began to open up.

"I really like singing," she confessed. "I'd love to go to NYADA one day, but I doubt I'd get in."

"I actually applied and got rejected," said Kurt, taking a delicate bite of coffee cake. "It didn't kill me. I'm still going strong in the arts industry."

"But it's my dream school," objected Allie. "If I don't get in, I don't know what I'll do. Honestly, if I can't perform, I can't live." She paused. "Kids don't… like me, very much. I guess I talk too much about myself. I have too much ambition. Not to mention my Jewish nose."

Kurt and Blaine exchanged looks. "There's nothing wrong with being a different religion than the 'normal' kids," Kurt said.

"What? Oh, no, _I'm_ not Jewish. Actually, I don't know where I got this thing. I'm assuming my birth parents were Jewish, or one of them was."

Blaine cocked an eyebrow. "Birth parents? Are you adopted?"

"Yeah." She looked down at her hands, deep in thought. "I, uh, was left. Well, not really _left_, but given away at birth. I don't know the full story."

"Well… do you want to know?"

"I – I mean, obviously."

"Is it a possibility? Like, could you find out if you wanted to?" asked Kurt.

She nodded.

"Sometimes it's best to wait until you're ready," Blaine said sagely. "What if you don't like what you find?"

"I already tried to find out," Allie said sheepishly. "I called my orphanage. They never called back, though. They said they'd try to locate and contact the hospital and get further information, and not to get my hopes up." She shrugged. "I guess nothing happened. It's just as well."

"I'm sorry," said Kurt quietly. "It must be tough. Trust me, though – you may not be the cool kid now, but soon enough those things won't matter. Blaine and I were most definitely _not_ cool in high school, and now we don't give a damn what those stupid oafs thought – hell, _still _think – about us."

"It just feels like I'll have to wait forever," said Allie. She checked her watch, then stood up. "I – we – should go now."

"Of course," Blaine said, courteously holding out her jacket so she could slip it on. "Our car's only a block away."

They walked the small distance in silence, being tossed here and there by the occasional rowdy group of teenagers, and drove Allie to her house in silence. It seemed their previous conversation had retrieved all the information she was willing to disclose about herself, and both men felt a twinge of pity as they watched her walk up and let herself through the front door. As they backed out of her driveway, Kurt said,

"I miss glee club."

Blaine looked over at him, then back at the road. "Yeah? I do too. it was a huge part of our lives. I wonder where everyone else is now."

"God, I haven't talked to Finn in forever," Kurt said.

"What? But he's your brother!"

"I know, I know. He's just been busy and we kind of fell out of touch. I'll give him a ring sometime soon, though. He was saying awhile back that he might come out here to visit us around New Year's. I'll renew the invite."

"Please do. Hey, is he still with Rachel?"

"They're engaged." Kurt frowned, realizing something. "Blaine… didn't Allie remind you a lot of Rachel?"

Blaine shrugged. "I suppose so. You know she and I were never very close – although didn't we kiss once when we were drunk?"

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Not the point, but yes. Anyway, isn't it strange? Allie's resemblance to Rachel is… striking, now that I think of it. She's got her brown hair, her nose – remember when she almost got a nose job with Quinn's nose? – and her personality."

"What are you saying?" asked Blaine cautiously, taking a left turn down their street.

"I'm _saying_, what if they're related?"

"Rachel doesn't have a sister, or any cousins. She asked Shelby and then told everyone about it in glee club."

"Oh my god," Kurt said suddenly. "I can't believe I forgot about this! Finn and Rachel swore me to utter secrecy. At the time, I think I was so preoccupied with my budding career to take them seriously. But back in senior year of high school… Rachel had a pregnancy."

"_What?_" Blaine drove smoothly into their driveway, then shut off the engine. He didn't take the key out, however, and remained in the car. "Do you really think…?"

"I don't know. I really don't know. It was very hush-hush, and Rachel was able to take early finals so nobody saw her later in the pregnancy, but they did say they wouldn't keep it. I don't know why I didn't even remember that!"

"It's okay," Blaine said soothingly, squeezing his hand and opening the door. "Come on, let's get inside before we freeze to death."

"You didn't happen to get her number, did you?" asked Kurt semi-jokingly. "I need to talk to this girl."

"Kurt, stop. You're going to drive yourself crazy. This is someone else's life you're meddling with. What if she finds out you're her birth father's step-brother? She could shut us out completely, and it could make things so much worse. If Rachel and Finn do intend to meet her somehow, we don't want to scare her off by throwing more biological relatives in her face."

"You're right, you're right," Kurt admitted, shaking the snow off his umbrella and hanging it up on the hook by the closet. "I don't know what I was thinking. We don't even know if it's her."

"Exactly," said Blaine, leaning over and kissing Kurt on the forehead. "Now I advise you to drop it, go to sleep, and see if you still feel the same way in the morning."

"Okay," Kurt agreed, taking a deep breath. He needed to not get ahead of himself: he knew that. But just imagine if he had a niece…

**I know that was probably kind of an abrupt cut-off for the chapter, but I'm really tired right now and I wanted to post something else before I go to bed. Let me know in the reviews what you want to see next. I'm thinking the next chapter will be Finn/Rachel POV, but after that is flexible. I have a plan for what happens with the story BUT if you have suggestions or requests I'll gladly take those into account. Hope you're liking the story! Feel free to check out my other fics, too. I would greatly appreciate that.**


	10. Chapter 10

Finn

The Christmas after I broke up with Rachel was miserable. I know she thought I hated her, but it was never like that. I loved her so much that it hurt.

She kept trying to win me back, making it all the more painful. I knew i couldn't stand holding her when I knew Puck had, couldn't stand kissing her when I knew he'd already done so, couldn't stand seeing her walk down the hallway when I knew Puck was in the same building. He'd had her once, and it made all the difference.

I was angry, too. I felt like I'd loved her unconditionally, and this was how she paid me back. She admits now that she did overreact to my fling with Santana. It didn't mean anything. It really didn't, and I lied to her about it because I wanted her to know that. I lied to her because back then, I was a foolish boy who wanted a girl.

Her clinginess has always been endearing to me. Even if it didn't show, back then I was pretty insecure, needy, and easily jealous. I still am. It's part of Rachel to need someone so much that she goes overboard, and I love that about her.

I guess it gave me some kind of power to know that she still wanted me, and I was playing hard to get. I didn't know what to do. I wanted to preserve our love so much that I decided to break up with her. Like I said, it would've been torture having something that my best friend had, even if both of them said it didn't mean anything. She was dating me, and she made out with someone else. That was enough torment for a lifetime. Okay, I was a pretty angsty kid.

That time we almost kissed among the trees was beautiful and broken. After I left her, I replayed that almost-kiss in my head over and over. It was all I had left of Rach, of us, for a long while.

I don't know why I'm thinking about this now, except that it was a turning point in our relationship. It wasn't puppy dog love or hormones. We both realized how serious our relationship was, and when you're in a relationship like that, you're so vulnerable. You basically hand your heart over to that person, and they can walk all over it. That's what Rachel did. That's when I realized she had my heart and she could do what she wanted. I was powerless, because I loved her so freaking much.

What I didn't realize back then in my narrow-minded teenage boy standpoint was that I had Rachel's heart as well. I thought she was the only one hurt, and that this was a lesson in cause and effect. But it wasn't. It never is.

I guess I was lucky that things turned out okay. Everyone looks for that someone who will come back to you after they break your heart. The person that makes them want to be a better person, that everyday you thank god they're in your life. I found that with Rachel.

We broke each other's hearts, but eventually we mended them. I left her, and I came back. She dated Jesse, and she fell in love with me.

I don't know why I'm saying all of this. Thinking about my daughter makes me go back to my high school years. And I never, ever want her to get hurt. As a father, even if you're not in their life, you want your kids to be safe everywhere they go.

It's a great thought, but it's not the case. It wasn't the case with me, or Rachel, or Kurt. It wasn't the case with Mom or Burt, either. They both lost someone they loved.

Everyone looks for their soulmate. Everyone will find them eventually. But love is scary and neverending. It's always changing and evolving and marriage is really a commitment to put up with the other person occasionally being reckless with your heart, to fix things when they're damaged, and to come home at the end of the day and just love them. You'll meet a lot of doppelgangers but you'll find the one.

Rachel and I are still learning and changing.

I get that now.

I don't think we're ready to meet our daughter.

**So there you are. Finn is second-guessing himself, and in the next chapter we'll see how Rachel feels about it all. Don't worry, Kurt and Blaine aren't out of the picture.**

**This chapter started out as a flashback but went another direction. I know it gets kind of rambly and, obviously, quite angsty, but these were things on my mind and I wanted to get them out there. I hope you like it. Review!**


	11. Chapter 11

**Hey guys, thank you so much for the story alerts and reviews and such! It really means a lot to me just to know that there are people out there reading and enjoying my writing.**

Rachel

When you're with someone long enough, you always feel them. You always know what they're thinking, almost at the same instant that they're thinking it.

Finn walked into the hotel room with an expression in his brown eyes. I looked up questioningly, searchingly, and shook my head.

"We can't do this," he said.

"I know." I gestured to the suitcases. "I already started packing up."

"We have to leave."

"It's not like she expected us or anything, right? I'll bet the orphanage never called her back."

"Of course," he said reassuringly. "I… we're too young, Rach. Maybe when we're older. Maybe when _she's_ older. I don't think she could handle it."

"I know I can't," I said honestly. "I've been thinking about it and, well, it was our choice. My choice, really. Who am I to go back on that? It's not as though she contacted _us_. Maybe she has no interest in a reunion. I keep trying to think of ways that this would work out, and I can't. Maybe it's a sign."

He nodded wordlessly and reached for his phone charger, tucking it into his bag. I watched him, chewing my lip. We were doing the right thing, right? We'd hurt our baby girl, and what if she wasn't in a position to forgive us? I remember the fifteen-year-old me – I was hurt and sad and full of angst. The timing just wasn't right, I told myself.

Silence hung over the room. It felt like those humid days where the weight of water presses down on you, sweltering and suffocating and hot, and you feel swollen and oppressed. If I was with anybody other than Finn, I would have run screaming from the room, but he had mellowed me. He'd tamed the fiery monster inside of me, the petulant teenager, years ago, and he had proven, over time, that every tear that fell, he would be there to catch it.

Suddenly, in the midst of this all, a sound emerged. A ringtone. Finn's ringtone. We both jumped, shaken out of our own thoughts. I gestured to it.

"You going to answer it?" I asked.

We both knew he didn't want to. Carefully, he retrieved it from his pocket, checked the screen. I was up by now, standing next to him, his arm automatically around my shoulder.

"Kurt," he said in surprise. I tilted my head; what could he want? We hadn't talked to him in ages.

I asked again, "You going to answer it?"

In response, he held the phone up to his ear. "Hello?"

_Hey, Finn! It's Kurt – remember me?_

"Of course I do." Finn gave a faint smile, looking at me. "I'm going to put you on speaker, okay? Rach is here."

Finn nudged me; I spoke up hurriedly, "Hey, it's Rachel."

"Rach! How are you?"

"Um… good."

I could practically hear Kurt's raised eyebrow. "Good, huh. So, uh, where are you guys these days?" I thought I heard someone, maybe Blaine, in the background, but then it was quiet.

"We are… actually, we're in New York," Finn said cautiously.

"No way! The big city? Got sick of good ol' Ohio?"

"You could say that."

There was a painfully pregnant pause. Should we tell him? Did he already know something?

"By the way, what's the name of the hotel you're staying at? Just a random question."

"Why?" I asked.

"Geez, can't a man ask a simple question? Kidding, Rach. No, but seriously, where are you guys staying? Blaine and I – say hi, Blaine!" I was right. There was a faraway "hi!" as Kurt continued, "We live here now. We've got this _gorgeous_ apartment, it's tiny and adorable and everything I ever dreamed of. Since you're in the area, mind if we drop by?"

"We're leaving," Finn said. "Sorry, man."

"Oh, no problem," Kurt said airily. "Nice talking to you." And he hung up abruptly.

"That was weird," I said frankly.

"Yeah, I don't know. This is the first time we've talked in, what, probably over 6 months, and he talks to us for, like, ten seconds and hangs up. It's not like I'm his brother or anything." Finn frowned, attempting to fold up a t-shirt.

I watched him fumble in grim amusement. After all these years, he still couldn't manage to make it work. "Maybe we were being weird," I suggested. "We weren't the friendliest. You're his brother too, Finn. Oh, give it." I grabbed the shirt and folded it, placing it carefully in his suitcase.

"Thanks," he said, reaching for my hand. We looked around the room. It was empty, plain, as if we'd never even made a dent. Was this what our baby's life was like now? Could she just erase us? Did she? And if we entered, would we disturb her peace? The image of a ravaged hotel room flashed before my eyes.

"Ready to go?" I asked. "I, um, I already called the station and got us last-minute tickets. They're dropping us off a few towns away, but we can take local transportation."

"Okay," he said quietly, taking his bag and handing me mine. "After you."

And we walked out of that hotel room, planning to never go back.

Well, it didn't exactly turn out like that.

**How do you like it? In the next chapter it's Kurt and Allie POV. Let me know what you think in the review section, and thanks for reading!**


	12. Chapter 12

"They're leaving," he said.

Blaine sighed. "Dammit."

Allie was unperturbed. "Well, we can go after them then!" she exclaimed, jumping up. "Come on, let's go!"

"Listen, listen, we have to think this over rationally," said Kurt. "I know we don't have a lot of time and Finn isn't being the biggest help in history, but Allie – are you _sure_ you want to pursue this?"

"One hundred percent," she said, her eyes blazing, back upright. She was resolved and determined; she knew what she wanted, and there was no backing down now.

"God, she reminds me of Rachel," Blaine murmured to Kurt, who nodded in agreement.

"Okay, look. We can try and chase after them. But we don't know anything for certain. We don't know why they were here or what's going on. The only suspicious behavior is, well… everything they said and did and the way they acted. I'll give you that."

"So let's go," urged Allie. "I want this. I deserve it. Let's face it, I'm not going to… disappoint them." Her shoulders sagged slightly and she asked timidly, "Am I?"

"What? No! That's not the problem at all," Kurt reassured her. "We don't know if it's best, emotionally, for Rachel and Finn. Neither of them were particularly, ah, _mature_ in high school. Rachel dressed hideously – you have much better fashion sense, by the way – and went on in the most terrible way about Finn; Finn thought he'd gotten his girlfriend pregnant in a hot tub… all I'm saying is that we don't know where your birth parents stand right now."

"And do your parents even know you're with us?" put in Blaine. "I would prefer not to have policemen knocking down our doors and accusing us of kidnapping a minor."

"They kind of know," said Allie vaguely, then turned to Kurt. "They're my biological parents. I'm not looking to bond with them, or have anything in common, or run towards each other in slow motion, as nice as all of that would be. But I'm not. I promise. I don't have high expectations. I just… I just want to know what they look like. What they talk like. If they love each other. If they loved me." She angrily swiped away a stray tear, taking a deep breath. "That's all. I just want answers."

Kurt and Blaine looked at each other. Allie watched them, twisting her hands together. Then, as if reaching a sudden, telepathic conclusion, Blaine grabbed all three of their coats from the banister, Kurt reached for the keys, and Allie was speeding out to the car.

Allie

Okay, let's back up a little. How did Kurt and Blaine and I happen to be together in their apartment, you ask? How did I know about Rachel and Finn? Let me tell you.

It started that night we met. My parents were really pissed when I got home, said they knew I wasn't with friends since they freaking _called_ every single one of my five friends' houses, and I wasn't at any of theirs. We both knew it wasn't like I'd been out partying with a bunch of druggies and alcoholics, since as wild and rebellious as I was, I drew the line there.

I got into a pretty heated shouting match with them after that. You know, the typical teenage-parent back and forth. You don't trust me – you can't prove that we should – you're being so unfair – life is unfair – I hate you – I know you don't mean that – yes I do – no you don't – get out of my life – we care about you, that's all – bullshit.

After about fifteen minutes of this, I got fed up and ran to my room. I was so mad, I couldn't even bring myself to cry. Not yet, at least. You see, there's always a tipping point with me. I'm an anger first, sadness second type of person. I get angry, and sometimes I manage not to cry, but if there are the right circumstances, if I'm really worked up, and one more thing happens, it sends me over the edge into a blubbering, swollen-eyed girl.

The tipping point came almost the second my door slammed.

I was leaning against the wall, feeling raw and furious, when "Don't Rain On My Parade" started blasting out of my pocket. Oh, Barbra. It took me a moment to recognize this as my phone's ringtone, and when I did I decided to ignore it. Let it go to voicemail. Who cared.

Curiosity got the better of me, however, and I checked the caller ID. It was a blocked, "private" caller. Interest piqued, I answered.

"Hello?"

"Hi, is Al… Alman…"

"Almana," I said. "Yes, it's me."

"This is the orphanage. You called earlier, inquiring about your adoption?"

My heart skipped several beats. I clutched the phone to my ear. "Yeah, I did! Do you – did they – what do you know?"

"We checked the records. It was confusing at first, as it would appear your biological parents requested that you get sent away from the town – state, actually – where you were born, but we did manage to get ahold of the hospital."

I'm surprised I didn't break my phone. "And?"

"Your parents answered. They didn't say anything certain, though they expressed interest and asked how you were doing."

"_And?_"

"I'm afraid we don't have any further information. Even if we did, we wouldn't be allowed to disclose it. All I can tell you is that they're aware that you contacted us and the ball's in their court, so to speak."

My heart sank. They probably wouldn't try to find me. God, I needed to know. I needed answers. "Okay, thanks," I said.

"Sorry, sweetie. Best of luck."

The phone clicked off and I tossed it carelessly onto my desk, feeling numb and, yes, tearful. It felt like there was _nobody_ in my life that I could trust… nobody cared. I realize now how very self-centered and naïve that sounds – of course people cared – but it was that feeling that caused me to log onto my laptop. I had no idea what I was doing, because there must be a thousand Blaines and Kurts in New York City, but I was bound and determined to find them. As creeped out as I was when they befriended me, they were unexpectedly and gratifyingly understanding, and I needed that.

Thus began the longest and, I'd like to think, most badass and clever three hours of my life. In case you hadn't realized, New York City is freaking _huge_.

I started on Facebook, narrowing my search by the area where they mentioned they lived. It came up with 5 pages of results, and I was in no mood to start looking at each of them.

Then I went to People Search, White Pages, stuff like that. I didn't know their address or their last names, but I knew their first names and, like I said, their home's general vicinity.

It took ages but I slowsly started accumulating parallel results, you know, like Facebook Kurt that matched LinkedIn Kurt and People Search Kurt, etc. I eventually stumbled upon an old article talking about a glee club from Ohio. In it, they had a photograph of this group called the Warblers (really?) and lo and behold, both of them were in it. I squinted at the caption and gathered their last names – Hummel and Anderson. Bingo!

After that it only took me about fifteen minutes to go back, find the right Kurt and Blaine on Facebook, double-check their phone number on multiple sites, and call them.

Okay, that all could probably be considered stalking, but it was for a good cause and I was rather desperate. This was clearly evident by the fact that I was hovering over my keyboard for such a prolonged amount of time, and by the end my eyes felt cross-eyed. At one point I think my mom came in, attempting to apologize, and barely even noticed.

Anyway, thankfully, they picked up.

It was Kurt. "Hi, it's Allie. I don't know if you remember me, but I'm the girl who –"

Kurt yelled, "Blaine! It's Allie!"

"Apparently you remember me. Great. Um, so it turns out that the orphanage reached the hospital, the hospital called my parents and… that's that. Well, that's not that. Because now it's gotten me curious and _I have to meet them._"

"Hi, Allie," said Blaine. "Repeat what you just said?"

By the end of the second time saying it, I was freaking out. Was I really ready? Was I okay? I felt all tingly, like there were explosives running through my veins.

"Okay, okay. Hold on a sec." I heard an intense whispered conversation – argument? discussion? – and then Kurt spoke up again. "We have something to tell you."

Stupidly, I blurted out, "Are you my parents?" The second the words left my mouth I wanted to shrivel up and go die in a hole. "I mean – sorry – I'm stressed – not that you couldn't be my parents – well, you couldn't… but i don't mean it in a homophobic way, I totally don't, yay gay rights…" I trailed off in distress, waiting for them to hang up on me.

Thankfully, they both laughed. "It's fine," Blaine reassured me. "We aren't your parents, however, and I suggest that you come over because we _do_ have some definite information on who they might be."

My heart skipped several more beats. "Okay," I said weakly. "I'll… um…"

"We can pick you up," Kurt said. "Don't worry about that."

"Cool. Er…" I thought of my parents. _Oh, look, our clearly mentally unstable daughter is leaving the house and getting into a car with two strange men. That's totally alright with us. Have a good time, honey! _"Maybe you'd better park down the street and I'll come meet you."

"Are we condoning yet more rebellion against the two people who have put their heart and soul into raising you?" asked Blaine semi-jokingly. I heard the jingle of car keys in the background, though, and Kurt said,

"It's a plan." He rattled off his cell phone number, saying that he'd text me when they were parked, and we hung up.

It turned out that my parents were preoccupied. Work stuff. They waved me off as I left and I sprinted down the street lest they realize that they'd essentially just given me their blessing to do whatever the hell I wanted to in the big city. Thank god I have better judgment than they'll ever admit or realize.

When we got to Kurt and Blaine's apartment, they sat me down with some cookies and milk – I know it makes it sound like I'm a 5-year-old, but sometimes you need that kind of treatment – and told me the entire story, from the beginning. Rachel's pregnancy. Her relationship with Finn before and after. Their engagement. What they were like. How they probably felt.

It went on and on and I couldn't even think straight by the end.

"So?" asked Kurt. "Thoughts?"

"I still wanna meet them," I said quickly. "Can you… this is a long shot, but can you call them?"

They exchanged looks. "We might as well," said Blaine. "But Allie – you might not like what you find. They could still be in Ohio, completely unaffected by that phone call. You have no idea."

"I know," I said, and I did. "What do I have to lose, anyway?"

Kurt and Blaine looked at each other, again like they were having a telepathic conversation. And then Kurt dialed.

**So, how do you like it? What are Finn and Rachel going to do? Will they find out that Allie is with Kurt and Blaine?**

**Let me know what you thought of this chapter in the review section and thank you so much for reading! I promise not to keep you hanging too too much.**


	13. Chapter 13

**Since I got a lovely review telling me to update ASAP (thank you. That made my day), I decided to do just that. Hope you like it.**

They were speeding down their street in no time at all, feeling good, and then hit classic New York traffic. Blaine groaned.

"We could try to, like, I don't know… track down where he was calling from, or something," offered Allie. "I mean, we might as well try to figure out where we're going while we're stopped here."

Kurt shook his head. "Not enough time, and I'd have no idea how to accomplish that anyway. Dammit, Rachel."

"Why Rachel?" said Blaine.

"I don't know, I just felt like blaming her. She's damn stubborn. God, I miss her. We used to have little sleepovers with Mercedes and – okay, enough reminiscing."

"Yes, thank you," said Allie. "No offense."

Blaine frowned. "Did they say what mode of transportation they're gonna use?" he asked.

"No, but I doubt they drove up here. Taking a plane wouldn't allow them that sudden of a departure."

"So that leaves…"

Kurt snapped his fingers. "Jackpot! They're on the train. All we have to do is go online, check the schedule, and see which one is going to Ohio." Blaine took out his iPhone and came up with it in seconds.

"Oh, okay. The only train with service to Ohio doesn't leave for… fifteen minutes. Even with a taxi, they're probably just getting there now. If we're stuck in this jam, it'll be too late. This could take half an hour." He tried to turn into another lane, but was met with an explosion of honking and enraged yells. "Geez, calm yourselves," he muttered. "I'm at a loss. Kurt?"

"I've no idea," Kurt said. "I guess we could try calling them again.

"Or we could just jump out of the car, race to the station, and try to intercept them," suggested Allie, half-sarcastically. Adrenaline was pumping in her veins; she felt trembly and ready to do something crazy. Never, in a million years, would she have suspected that this was in her future. She was an angry, unhappy, difficult fifteen year old girl who lashed out at her parents, refused to have friends, and sang/wrote depressing songs in her copious amounts of spare time. Now, she was actually doing something. She was actually… living.

Kurt looked at her. "Do you want this that bad?"

"I need this."

Blaine gave a nod of approval. "Let's do it."

"Wait, what?"

"Come on!" shouted Kurt, swinging open his door and stepping out. Blaine did the same.

"Oh my god!" screamed Allie as a truck swerved and narrowly missed the two, but they skirted it and bounded onto the sidewalk in one effortless leap. There, they looked at her expectantly and waved.

And Allie jumped out of the car.

Finn paid the cab and, Rachel in tow, hurried into the train station. They breathlessly asked if there were any openings in the train headed to Columbus. The answer was yes, and they bought last-minute tickets. It was leaving in just under twenty minutes.

"We're doing the right thing," Finn said softly, planting a kiss on Rachel's head. God, she was beautiful, looking up at him in such concern. She looked like the girl he fell in love with: small, vulnerable, perfectly fit to his arms.

"I know," she whispered. "I just… what if we missed this opportunity? Maybe we'll regret it."

"What if we met her first, and still regretted it? Wouldn't it be worse?"

"You're right." She sighed, curling up against him and shivering slightly.

The time on the clock hanging above the tracks slowly ticked by. Just as the train began rumbling down on the tracks, and everyone who was waiting for it stood up, there was a commotion. Three jacketed figures flew through the entrance like madmen, yelling things and tumbling onto the ground, gasping for breath.

"Kurt?" asked Finn, bemused.

"Blaine?" added Rachel. "What are you –" She stopped talking.

They'd just parted, allowing the third person forward.

She was petite, with round brown eyes, wavy hair, and a crooked, nervous smile. Her eyes traced over Rachel and something, some unnamable emotion filled her gaze. She looked up at Finn searchingly, and he realized in the same instant as Rachel.

_This is our daughter._

"Hi," she said.

**I'm going to stop it there. Let me know how you liked it! The next chapters will return to the format of flashbacks, old diary entries, songs, etc. Don't worry, I won't keep you waiting too long – I'll be sure to update a bunch of chapters in the same day so you can see what happens after this moment.**

**I really hope you like the story, and thank you for all of your support! It really means a lot.**

**Also, if you've been keeping up with it and reading it and have subscribed to story alerts and such – and haven't yet reviewed, I'd love it if you did. This story is winding to a close, and every opinion matters to me. Just think about it. You're awesome and I'd love to hear from you!**


	14. Chapter 14

**Thank you, thank you, thank you for your support and reviews. I'm so happy to know that everyone is reading and enjoying this fic. You guys are so sweet. Really.**

**In this chapter, I didn't want to reveal everything or conclude the story or anything like that, so I'll give you a small taste of what happens after the last chapter ended, but the rest will be flashbacks and journal entries and whatnot.**

_The hospital was noisy that day. Noise hurt her ears. She was uncomfortable, swaddled up in an itchy blanket, and she wanted to get out. When she cried, it took ages for someone to reach her. Maybe forever._

_There was talking, too. Incoherent babbling. Lots of bright lights. Beeps and other sounds that didn't make sense. Where was she?_

_And then she felt herself being lifted up. She fought it, but the fight was already exhausting her. Hands, rough hands, squeezed too hard around the middle. She kicked against the blanket, flailing her hands, and almost scratched her cheek with fingernails she didn't know she had._

"_Here," said a short voice. She didn't like it, the way it sounded like all the screeching of wheels and buzzing of fluorescent lights._

_Then she was put into other hands. Large, comforting hands. She stopped squirming for an instant, squinting up at the person. A face came into focus: light brown eyes widened in surprise, a lopsided smile. It looked like a smudge at first: a straight ridge for a nose, tan skin all running together, a puff of plain brown hair at the top._

_She realized that this person held some significance. They were looking at her in wonder and she tried to gaze back. It was overwhelming._

"_She's beautiful," they said. Why did they sound upset?_

_Another voice came from next to them. "I know," it said. She couldn't see the speaker._

"_You hold her."_

"_Just let me finish this paperwork."_

_She let herself be held gingerly. This person was overly careful, she thought. They should hug her to their chest. She was hungry and so, so tired. But they looked scared, or worried, or sad. Confusing. She shut her eyes._

_When she woke moments later, someone else was holding her. A softer person. They smelled like flowers. A lock of hair brushed her forehead as they leaned over. They were shorter, judging by the lowered height, and much gentler. Mama? She tried to make a sound, but couldn't talk yet._

"_She's perfect," said this person._

_She sighed, beginning to feel sleepy again, and being held against a fuzzy sweater was calming._

"_You done?" It was the rough-voiced one again. She felt herself squeezed tighter by the person and understood that something bad was going to happen. Clenching her little fists, she started to cry._

_The first person, the taller one, took her back into their arms. They bounced her up and down, murmuring things, but it didn't help. What was happening?_

_Next to her, the flowery person was making a sound. They were sad. Why?_

_She strained against the blanket's hold, trying to reach for the person whose touch she trusted, but the gap was too large and she was too small._

"_We'll take her for you," said that grating voice. She didn't like that voice, not at all._

"_Just let me say goodbye."_

_And she was brought back to the sweet-smelling lap. It was moving slightly from the shudders making its way down the person's body and as she looked up and tried to see a face through the blurriness, a bead of water dropped onto her cheek. Her hand went up to it, feeling its wetness. It was a tear._

"_That will do."_

_And she was whisked away in those rough, rough hands and put into a small wheeled cart and cried and cried but mama never came back._

Until now.

Allie

I don't remember anything about my adoption or abandonment. When you're not adopted, you have a million pictures and stories and home videos from those times. But I don't.

Sometimes I think I remember a certain scent. Once I walked into Bath and Body Works when I was six, and I ran out crying. Nobody knew why. I said there was something that smelled sad.

I'll get flashes of voices that don't make sense. Fleeting images in my head that don't match up. Only if I'm not looking for them. I don't want them there. I want the full story. Not these fragments of memories.

It's like watching frames from random movies. You know that they connect somehow, you just don't know how. And then you find yourself questioning if they were ever there in the first place.

These moments are… special. Mystifying. There is no word to describe it. All I know is I feel them, every so often. They're a part of me I'll never put together. Tiny snapshots.

If I try to hold onto one, it's gone.

Rachel

Dear Diary,

Thinking a lot about her today.

I heard this on the radio. I thought it was appropriate to how I was feeling. I'll dedicate it to… Finn and the family we never had.

_Trying hard to speak and fighting with my weak hand  
>Driven to distraction so part of the plan<br>When something is broken and you try to fix it  
>Trying to repair it any way you can<br>I'm diving off the deep end  
>You become my best friend<br>I wanna love you but I don't know if I can  
>I know something is broken and I'm trying to fix it<br>Trying to repair it any way I can_

"X and Y". Coldplay.

Yours,

Rachel.

"Who are you?" whispered Rachel, clutching a hand to her chest, where she felt sure her heart had stopped beating.

"I'm Allie," she said, looking uncomfortable. She took a hesitant step forward. "You're… my mom."

"I am," said Rachel.

They looked at each other, wondering what the other was thinking.

Kurt and Blaine waited with bated breath. Time stood still.

Allie looked to Finn. "You're my dad," she said.

He smiled the same smile that she had. "Yep," he said, twisting his scarf nervously in his hands.

She took another step forward. They did, too, and they stood there, afraid to touch each other. Doubts were rushing through their minds – had they done the wrong thing? Was this a mistake? What if…

Unable to take it any longer, Kurt blurted out, "Hug her already!"

Rachel reached forward first, pulling Finn along with her. It was a cautious, awkward hug that felt familiar but stale, like watching the re-make of a movie you saw a decade and a half ago.

But when a lock of hair fell across Allie's forehead and she looked up and saw that crooked smile, she smelled the flowery scent she had missed for fifteen years. And this time, it smelled like a garden.

**Okay, so there you have it. I have the last chapter already planned, but I'm not quite sure what's going to happen next. I think I'll probably skip ahead a little, and have the next few installments be further in the future, but toss in a few journal entries/flashbacks if you so wish.**

**Let me know in the reviews what you thought of this chapter, and what you might want to see between this one and the concluding one!**


	15. Chapter 15

**Thank you for your reviews. You guys are adorable and wonderful and sweet.**

"Al! Hurry up!" called Dad. I was in my room, frantically packing.

Mom stopped by with an armload of laundry. She eyed my situation with a motherly, smug, I-told-you-so expression. I rolled my eyes, waiting for it.

"I told you to pack last night," she commented.

"Be quiet," I said crossly, pointing a hair straightener at her. "I was busy."

"Oh, sure. You were busy."

I blushed. "Mom! Drew and I are just friends!"

"Mm-hmm. Here." She untangled a shirt from the pile in her arms. "This snuck into my wash."

Grudgingly, I took it from her. It was my faded Barbra Streisand t-shirt, the one Rachel and Finn bought me the first time we met.

Mom winked at me. "Thought you might want it. Have fun, sweetie."

I groaned and shut the door, examining my open suitcase. Did I have everything? Not quite…

I pulled the t-shirt on over my cami. The fabric was getting that warm, soft, cottony texture that a well-worn shirt will. Just like Rachel's cardigans. I smiled, then looked back at what I'd packed, assessing it. _Did_ I have everything?

Now I did.

I zippered it up hastily, snatched my wallet and phone from where I'd left them on the bed, and stumbled, suitcase in tow, downstairs, banging my pinky toe in the process. As I clutched it and muttered obscenities under my breath, Dad easily heaved my luggage onto his shoulder and nodded towards the door.

"Ready?"

"_Dammit_," I muttered, dropping onto the step and inspecting the damage. Pinky injuries hurt like hell, okay?

"I'll be in the car," he said, pecking my head. "Try not to take too long, or call 911."

I stuck my tongue out at him and stood up, straightening my clothes and putting my sunglasses on. So much had changed since a year ago. I'd already spent one Christmas with Finn and Rachel – they came to visit us and took me with them to their house the day after – and called them almost every week. It had turned out better than I'd ever hoped. And, I'll admit, with a combination of continued therapy – I love my therapist, as lame as that sounds – and some long talks with my biological parents, my anger issues were lessened. It wasn't perfect, and it never would be. I mean, I was never going to run into their arms and everything would be fine and they're re-adopt me or something. That's just not how it works. But it was something.

Oh! And they'd (finally) gotten married, the summer after we first met. I opted not to be a part of the procession or whatever, but I sat in the audience and watched their parents cry. It was fun, especially when Kurt and Blaine whisked me away on a whirlwind shopping spree between the ceremony and reception.

You're probably wondering what happened after I came home from the train station.

Mom and Dad were understandably pissed, initially because I had left without telling them and I had them worried sick and all that jazz. Their irritation – "you have no respect for our family values!" etc. – was replaced by a combination of shock, more anger, disbelief, and resignment when they found out that I'd contacted the orphanage, made friends with a random gay couple, and met my birth parents, all without their knowledge. They yelled at me for awhile but I think Finn talked to them.

Finn. The longer I've known him, the more similarities I see. Everyone thinks I'm _so_ much like Rachel, and I clearly am, but I have Finn's kind of, I dunno, naivety? Not in a bad way. Just, I'm more confused and lost than people would suspect. I always mean well; I always have strong feelings. Sometimes I just don't understand what the hell is going on.

It felt good to be a part of something, to have those similarities and be like, Wow. These are my biological parents. Okay, that sounds kind of anti-climatic. What I mean is that I've searched for so long – too long and too hard – for a place where I could belong, and it's like they were the last stepping stone to getting there.

But.

The thing is, my parents are my parents. They've raised me. I don't want anyone thinking, Oh, she found her _real_ parents, and now she's a carbon copy of them and nothing else. 'Cause that's definitely not the case. In the end, it doesn't matter who you were physically born to. Everybody that you've loved, and that has loved you, is a piece of your life, and that's why I needed to seek out Finn and Rachel. They were a missing piece. But my parents, they were the first people to show me real, unconditional love. They loved a baby that had just been left, they loved me when I needed it the most. They were there for all my milestones. First steps, first words ("no", "mama", and "moomoo", which translates to "music"), first bike ride… everything. I've hit them with a lot of anger and difficulties. Given my background, I think it makes sense that I'm a high-maintenance person. The incredible thing is that my parents have tolerated it all.

That's not to say I don't hate them half the time. I do. It's normal. Despite this, I guess I have the occasional moment of appreciating them. Finn and Rachel have helped me find this. They aren't my "real" parents. They're a huge part of my life, or were, but when I look at them, I realize that they weren't there when my parents were. No hard feelings. Just (resentful) revelations.

All I'm trying to say is, my story isn't a perfect one. There is no such thing as perfection when it comes to family and love and things of that sort. There's only, Okay, this has sorta fallen into place and I think we can all live with it.

That's what my parents accepted as well. I was surprised and somewhat touched when their first response was blaming Finn and Rachel. The look on Finn's face when Mom started going off on him was priceless. She thought they'd, like, stalked me down and were about to kidnap me. Even though we'd just had a huge fight, she went on for ages about how much she loved me, how I was her kid through and through, and how they couldn't just come along and steal me just because I was the best daughter anyone could ask for.

She calmed down after that little outburst and we talked it out. The arrangement made was simply that I'd be allowed to have contact with them, and as long as they checked with my parents first, I could go to their place during holidays and stuff. Kinda like divorced parents with joint custody, only a lot nicer since we all actually got along and loved each other.

And so it was that Mom and Dad agreed to let me spend the fourth of July with Rachel and Finn. I was nervous, as always, and psyched. I'd initially made plans with my best friend, Drew (it turns out we weren't just friends; more on that later) but agreed to go hang out with my birth parents – I called them BPs for short – instead.

I ran out to the car in bare feet, flip flops dangling off my right hand. "Coming!" I yelled, and hopped into the front passenger seat.

"Are you excited?" he asked as we headed down our street.

I nodded, plugging my iPod into the car jack. I'd downloaded some copies of Rachel and Finn's performances – recordings from Nationals and glee club and such – and I'd kind of been listening to them nonstop. Rachel said she'd help me with my singing when I got there.

The ride to the train station – I was thrilled when Mom revealed that I was now dubbed "mature and responsible enough" to go on a train by myself – was a long one, so I kicked back and relaxed, turning the volume all the way up when their rendition of "Faithfully" came on. Yep, those are my biological parents. Jealous, everybody?

Life wasn't perfect, but it sure was good.

**I was re-reading this fic from the beginning and recognized a lot of inconsistencies. Whoops. That's awkward. I fixed it, though. And right before I post the final chapter I'm going to go back since I've noticed a few typos and I wanna revise some things.**

**At any rate, I hope you liked this. I'm actually SO psyched for the next chapter, which will be a continuation of this, and I think you'll all be pretty happy with the outcome as well.**

**I've begun the final chapter though I don't think I'm going to post it yet, and I'm psyched for you guys to read it eventually.**


	16. Chapter 16

**Hey guys, sorry for the lag in updating! I started camp this week so I barely have any time to do anything! I'll definitely try to post more this weekend, though. Thanks for your patience.**

**This is a chapter I've worked hard on, and I hope you like the twist I put in it. I chose this song because although it's kind of a sad one, I just felt like it fit in nicely. I don't know what you guys will think of it, but let me know in the reviews!**

Allie

_Fathers, be good to your daughters  
>Daughters will love like you do<br>Girls become lovers who turn into mothers  
>So mothers, be good to your daughters too<br>_

I stare out the window of the train nervously as it pulls up to the station. It's still weird, actually _seeing _the people who I've constantly thought about for the past fifteen years of my life. I don't know how to describe it. I guess it'd be like if you got an arm amputated, and then all of a sudden it grew back, or something. You'd be staring at it like _what the heck? _for a long time, right? Because it was missing, it was painful, and now it's there again.

But I'm excited to see Rachel and Finn. Who wouldn't be? They're great people. Talented, nice, awesome…

The train doors open and people start filing out. I stand up, stretching. There's shiny stuff on the wall opposite to me and I can spot my reflection, distorted and cluttered with images of other passengers. I'm short, with plain brown hair that waves and does whatever it wants to. I have my birth mom's eyes and nose, and my dad's lopsided smile and face shape.

But I'm me. I'm still Almana Lewis. All I have now are answers, and not even those. Just… little pieces that fill in parts of my identity that weren't there before.

_Oh, you see that skin?  
>It's the same she's been standing in<br>Since the day she saw him walking away  
>Now she's left<br>Cleaning up the mess he made  
><em>

I think it'll take time to heal from all of it. Abandonment, adoption – they're difficult to cope with, for a lot of people. I'm lucky. My first dad left, but he came back. So did my mom. Not everyone will be so fortunate, and I admire them to no end for moving on without their BPs.

The line advances forward and I grip the handle of my suitcase. I can almost see them…

I used to feel like I had to clean up this huge mess, like it was all my fault because I was bad, or worthless, or something. Not good enough. Talking to Finn and Rachel makes me realize that it's nobody's fault and nobody's mess. They beat themselves up over it as much as I did. Even Finn, being the father, felt horrible and responsible for it.

I know Finn can't undo leaving me, but he can start being good to me now.

The ticket collector smiles at me as I get off the train. Where are they?

I search around, tossed here and there by the rapidly thinning crowd, and then I see them. They wave at me and we start walking towards each other.  
><em><br>On behalf of every man  
>Looking out for every girl<br>You are the god and the weight of her world_

Finn yells, "Allie!" and, letting go of Rachel's hand, runs over and lifts my feet of the ground in a huge hug. I feel a rush of gratitude, being greeted like this. I'm not a physically affectionate person, but my BPs are, so I, y'know… put up with it.

Rachel follows him, laughing, and says, "Finn, let her breathe a little!"

"Sorry." He sets me down again, carefully, like he might break me, and pecks me on the head.

"Hi, sweetie," says Rachel, leaning in and kissing me on the cheek as she takes my bag. "I'm so glad that you're here!"

"I know," I say, squinting against the sun. We start walking out of the station. "I've missed you guys."

They exchange a look. Not a bad one. It's unreadable. Finn just says, "Hey, this ice cream place opened up over here. Wanna check it out?"

I nod, still trying to translate their exchange.

"I could go for an ice cream cone," says Rachel, beaming. "I'm _hot._" She's wearing a baggy chambray blouse with long sleeves and is sweating like crazy.

"Then take your blouse off," I say. Duh?

They exchange that frustratingly enigmatic look again and I want to say something. However, I keep my mouth appropriately shut – one of the things I've learned in the past year or two of my life is when _not _to blurt things out prematurely – until we go in and order. I get mint chip and wait outside with Finn, who got chocolate chunk. We sit down at one of those cute little colorful ice cream shop picnic benches.

"How've you been?" he asks, smiling at me.

"I'm okay," I say. It's true. It's not like I'm depressed or anything, but I'm not exactly prancing around to refrains of hallelujah all the time. I tell him as much, and he laughs. What's taking Rachel so long?

"You know, I'm sorry I wasn't there," he says.

I freeze. That could mean any number of things. He's looking at me. What am I supposed to say? "Um, it's okay. _What?_"

He sighs. "Just that I wasn't good to you, when I should have been. Rach and I – we really are sorry."

"I know." We both lick our ice creams in silence.

I think for a moment.

I get what he's saying and why he's saying it. All our talks… they were really intense. We all cried and poured our hearts out. It was kind of pathetic, if I'm being honest.

But Finn's statement is simple. It's acknowledgement that he wasn't as good to me as he could have been, even though in the long run, I ended up having a much better childhood than I would have with two eighteen-year-olds as parents.

I realize that it means a lot to hear him say that. I don't know, it just… it gives me closure. It ties a knot on that chapter of my life. And like I said, there's always second chances.

Rachel comes out with a strawberry ice cream cone. I move over on the bench so I'm squished between her and Finn. I don't mind. Finn ruffles up my hair affectionately and I mime shoving my cone into his face.

We toss away our trash. I stand and reach for my bag, assuming that we're going to their car, but they're looking at me and grinning.

"What?" I ask, feeling extremely stupid.

"Rach," says Finn.

Rachel slowly unbuttons her blouse. She's wearing a fitted cami underneath and… she has a baby bump. Finn pulls me over to him, back into a hug. "Rachel's pregnant," he tells me, looking so happy that I feel like my heart's about to explode.

Wait, what?

"I'm due in September," Rachel says.

"Oh my god." I'm speechless. "You're… oh my god." I'm going to be a sister! A biological sister, at least. BS, for short? That's no good… maybe I'll be called Aunt Allie or something. Hey, that sounds pretty cool. It also raises another question. "Is it a boy or a girl?" I ask.

"It's a girl," Finn says, wrapping his arm around Rachel and leaning his cheek on the top of her head.

Wow. I'm still slightly stunned. A baby, huh. Talk about second chances. Maybe I should be mad or jealous. I'm not, though. I like people more these days and if anyone deserves their own little family, it's my biological parents.

A bit of ice cream dribbles down my thumb. I lick it off. Finn looks up and grins at me, the same grin I saw in my reflection on the train. I smile back. Just watching him around Rachel makes me feel safe. Does that sound totally creepy and weird?

What I mean is, when you're little, you want your mom and dad to love each other. I'll admit I never did, but that's because I was seriously screwed up. I wanted to be most loved.

Now, seeing Finn and Rachel, seeing that they do truly love each other and my mom wasn't a prostitute who got knocked up when she was wasted… there's no better feeling.

I feel taken care of, _loved_, even, by four people now – Mom, Dad, Finn, and Rachel. Mom and I get along so much better than we used to, Dad drives me everywhere and lets me watch R rated movies when Mom's not around. Rachel's always buying me CDs and taking me to shows and Finn's so sweet to me. And let me tell you, he'll make a great dad. He already has. __

_So fathers, be good to your daughters  
>Daughters will love like you do<br>Girls become lovers who turn into mothers  
>So mothers, be good to your daughters too<em>

~Daughters, by John Mayer

**Don't worry, this isn't the last chapter, haha.**

**Hope you liked it! Let me know what you think in the review section!**


	17. Chapter 17

**Hey guys, thanks for your patience. This one took me forever to write! It's kind of a mish mash of everything. I didn't know exactly what to do because I felt that Allie's parents deserved recognition, so I opted for a collection of journal entries. Each one is slightly different and they aren't all at the same point in time. Hope you like it!**

Kurt

When I was sixteen, my objectives in life were a little different. Rise to stardom by junior year, preferably via a poignant performance in any given musical; graduate early with flying colors; apply to NYADA and get accepted with open arms; star on Broadway alongside the personalities I once worshipped; come out of the closet to Dad; fall in love and get married and live happily ever after.

Clearly, not all of those happened, at least as planned.

But it's okay.

Truth be told, I was feeling rather… anticlimactic. Unimportant. Like I was an afterthought, a footnote, in the book of life. It was getting to me that I hadn't achieved any of those goals. I was uncomfortable in my own skin once again, and feeling like maybe it was lame that I hadn't changed the world or done anything remotely significant.

Looking back on all of that, I realized that the day I met Allie was the day it hit me: being under the spotlight isn't the only way to go. I can make a difference without recording an album and touring the nation to cheering, tweenage crowds and avenging the Karofskys of the world.

Now, I'm not trying to say that I changed her life. I'm sure that if she was meant to meet Finn and Rachel, she would have, regardless of Blaine and my interference. Though to be fair, she was the one to contact us and not the other way around, and our intervention was justifiable.

Regardless, I was feeling like a little lost lamb for a bit. My confidence was taking a few self-inflicted blows and when I realized that here was a much younger, much more vulnerable, much smaller, and much more lost lamb than I was, I understood something. Life's not about living out your high school dreams; it's about everyone being in the same picture and colliding at the right time in the right place. This isn't every man for himself.

And I'm sure that someday, if not already, I'll be the underdog in comparison to someone else, and hopefully they'll reach out to me like I did with our lovely Miss Lewis. Because that's how life works.

As for Allie: she's a lovely girl. Really. Her similarities to Rachel are overwhelming at first, but once you get past the stubborn, cynical outer shell (I say this with the greatest love and affection), you'll find a real gem. I'm uncle Kurt to her, which is awkward because Finn and Rachel aren't considered her parents. Blaine says that I'm just the cool gay uncle type and such a label comes naturally. Either way, I love that girl.

She certainly hasn't had it easy in life, and that's one thing we have in common. What I admire is her remarkable ability to stand up after braving each hit and enter back into the arena, head held higher and eyes blazing brighter. She gives me another thing to believe in, and inspires me every day. She's the reminder that yes, life _does _go on. The perks of life won't come to you; you'll have to come to them, come _by_ them, earnestly.

Okay, okay, enough with the metaphors and dreadful cliches. I get carried away. What can I say? I'm melodramatic by nature.

Anyway, reader, I'm not trying to tell you to live life to the fullest or do a good deed every day or believe in destiny or don't or whatever. I'm merely explaining the role that Almana Lewis played – and still plays, on the rare occasion that we get to Skype or see each other – in my life. And let me tell you, it's a pretty big one, for a pretty small girl.

Blaine

Kurt and I saw Allie briefly today. It's freaking crazy, we live in the same city, but we barely ever see each other. That doesn't matter, though.

It's been over a year and a half since we first met her and she's already part of the family. Not in a super close way, but in a second-cousin-who-lives-in-LA-that-we-never-see-but-still-love way. We've got her school picture hanging on our refrigerator and her number on our phones. That kind of way.

When we bumped into each other, I don't think I've ever seen her looking so bright. Maybe it was her outfit – I've absolutely got to go shopping with her sometime; she's got the most darling sense of style – or her new, hard-earned light auburn highlights. But I think it was something else.

As far as I can tell, nothing has changed in her school situation. She doesn't have many, if any, friends; homework is challenging; her stardom hasn't been recognized yet. She's still plodding along the same crappy road called adolescence as she was before this whole Finn/Rachel thing happened. A lot of things are the same. Except… she's lost that bitter edge she had for so long. And I'm pretty sure that's what made her seem so much brighter.

I don't think Finn and Rachel were the magic bullet by any means. She would've come to this place no matter what happened. You gotta give them some credit, though, right? They deserve it.

She got so excited when she saw us that she practically bowled Kurt over in a massive hug. It was adorable. She's getting taller – I reckon that between Rachel and Finn's genetics, she'll end up around average height – and, dare I say it, prettier by the day.

We chatted for barely two minutes while she waited for her bagel and cream cheese, and in that time I felt an acute sense of gratification wash over me. Your success in life, your experience with it, is largely determined by the people you meet, the chance encounters, and I was part of that. I'm a little piece in her story and she's one in mine. For someone who, like my soon-to-be husband (I proposed!), is naturally hard on themselves, it's sublimely satisfying when you feel like you made a difference, albeit a small one.

Before she scurried off, she blew us both a kiss and said, "Thank you for everything. I have to go. But thank you. Call me! I'm really busy, though. Thank you. I love you guys. I'm late for rehearsal. Bye! Thank you thank you thank you thank –" And then she was gone.

I can live with that.

Rachel

Almana Lewis. The name I've wanted to know since the day she was born.

Delia Barbra Hudson. The name of my daughter.

Allie's a wonderful big sister. She's cautious around babies, scared of dropping them, but has realized that there's no better audience than a cooing, giggling infant. Now Finn and I have to limit her performances or she'll keep Delia up all night.

Oh, there she goes again. Delia, not Allie. I should probably go change her.

Okay, back.

There's so much to say about Allie, and I have no idea how to describe what this entire experience has been like. You won't understand it, either, unless you go through it yourself.

No, I want to take a little time and talk about Finn. I feel like he's been under-appreciated by me in this whirlwind of finding our long-lost daughter.

Finn Hudson. Where do I begin.

Finn has come such a long way from when we were in high school. I mean, that's pretty obvious – everyone changes after they graduate – but he's developed into the most handsome, kind-hearted, amazing husband anybody could ever have. I feel like the luckiest girl in the world when I wake up in the morning with his face two inches from mine.

I think that everyone looks for that special something that they can feel with that special someone. It's a long and frustrating journey filled with doppelgangers and heartbreak, but when you reach the finish line… it's so worth it.

If I could go back in time and tell myself that if I was just patient, Finn Hudson would be my husband one day, I would probably slap myself in the face for saying something so absurd (once we got around the fact that I was time traveling, of course).

But seriously. Finn makes me feel safe. When he looks at me, I feel like I have everything I'll ever need. I still watch him when he's working or concentrating on something and get a little giddy flip flop in my stomach and schoolgirl smile on my face. When he comes up behind me and wraps his arms around my waist and whispers, "I love you," I want the moment to last forever.

When somebody loves you like Finn loves me, it changes everything.

I know I'm in my thirties now, and most teenagers wouldn't think that romance still exists when you're that old. It does, in an evolved way where you accept that life isn't, and will never be, remotely near what you planned. Good lord, it's as far from perfect as it could be.

What I'm saying is… Finn and I don't have a perfect relationship. It's perfect to us, but definitely not even slightly comparable the typical chick flick, rom com, unattainable ideals thrust on us by modern society. Sorry, just had to have a cynical moment. Anyway.

Finn and I… we fight, we get out of sync, we piss each other off. But the thing is, at the end of the day, I know that in spite of everything, of all my insecurities – and god knows there are a lot – and flaws and failures, he loves me. And that's more than enough.

_For all those times you stood by me  
>For all the truth that you made me see<br>For all the joy you brought to my life  
>For all the wrong that you made right<br>For every dream you made come true  
>For all the love I found in you<br>I'll be forever thankful baby  
>You're the one who held me up, never let me fall<br>You're the one who saw me through, through it all_

_You were my strength when I was weak  
>You were my voice when I couldn't speak<br>You were my eyes when I couldn't see  
>You saw the best there was in me<br>Lifted me up when I couldn't reach  
>You gave me faith 'cause you believed<br>I'm everything I am…  
>Because you loved me<em>

-Because You Loved Me, by Celine Dion

Finn

In my childhood years, I never had a father type to look up to. I didn't have a role model for being a guy. I scraped by with whatever puppy-eyed charm that came naturally to me, of course, but I missed out on having a dad's love. Now I have Burt, and he truly makes me happy, even if it was rough at first.

Only… I guess I never experienced, y'know, fatherly love. Not from the beginning to the end. I have memories of Dad, sure. Memories from a long, long time ago. Forget about having a role model for being a guy – I never had someone to show me how to be a _father_. Which, on the surface, kinda sucks.

So you'd think I'd feel lost. _I_ assumed I'd feel lost and over my head whenever it was that Rach and I had a baby. I _was_ lost when Allie was born.

I'm the luckiest guy in the world for three reasons. Rachel, Allie, and Delia.

Things were stressful for a long time, you know? Like, not knowing Allie… I felt like I needed to find her and be the father I was maybe too cowardly to be in senior year. And meeting her, getting to watch her grow up, is incredible.

But I'm not her _dad. _I accept that. We all do. She's just an extra blessing in our lives, something that magically came back after we gave up on it.

Delia, though… I would do anything for that little girl. Not that I wouldn't for Allie, but like I said – not her dad.

Delia Hudson. Delia Barbra Hudson. Sorry, I still can't believe it's real. I have a daughter, and her mother is Rachel Berry.

When I first held Delia, this – this instantaneous feeling shot through me. I felt part of what I feel when I look at Rachel. The scary and crazy and wonderful feeling that you will do _anything_ for this person, that you will be there by their side unconditionally for however long forever might be.

And then there's my wife, Rachel. Still can't believe _that's _real. We've known each other for twenty years and she still takes my breath away. Everything about her enchants me. As blundering as I am, I can only hope that by now she understands that I'm here to stay. That's right, Rach, you're stuck with me forever.

Back in high school, I was the jock who was secretly in love with this amazing, totally different girl. I wouldn't let myself want her, because I didn't _know _what it was that I wanted. She was so radically notQuinn Fabray, and I didn't just want to mack on her or have sex with her, I wanted to legitimately win her over. I mean, for a guy like me (I'll admit, I was a tool back then), that was… mind-blowing. And, like everything in my life that didn't have an answer that was conspicuously staring me in the face, I found it utterly confusing. I guess I respected her too much to be the guy everyone else expected me to be.

All I can say is that right now, I'm so grateful. I cherish every moment of watching Delia – and Allie – grow up, every smile I share with Rachel, and every second that ticks by on the clock.

_I'm forever yours, faithfully._

Laura Lewis

I've never been musical, and lord knows I'm not "hip" or "cool" or "in the know" or whatever when it comes to the popular genre. But the other night I turned the car radio on and it was tuned to the channel Allie was listening to. And I heard Taylor Swift (_that's _what her name is!) singing this song called "Never Grow Up". I copied the lyrics down here.

_Your little hands wrapped around my finger  
>And it's so quiet in the world tonight<br>Your little eyelids flutter 'cause you're dreaming  
>So I tuck you in, turn on your favorite night light<em>

_To you, everything's funny  
>You got nothing to regret<br>I'd give all I have, honey  
>If you could stay like that<em>

_Oh, darling, don't you ever grow up, don't you ever grow up  
>Just stay this little<br>Oh, darling, don't you ever grow up, don't you ever grow up  
>It could stay this simple<em>

_I won't let nobody hurt you  
>Won't let no one break your heart<br>No, no one will desert you  
>Just try to never grow up, never grow up<br>_  
>Even though it wasn't from the point of view of a mother, those first few verses struck me.<p>

For awhile, I didn't feel like Allie's mother. She was so hostile, so angry towards me. I understand know that the shame she felt after outbursts was paralyzing, but at the time… I was at a loss. My daughter, my beautiful daughter, hated my guts. Every word I said was wrong. Everything I did was wrong. Every outfit I wore was hideous. And so on.

What she and other kids can't and won't understand is the love of a mother. I think Rachel is a wonderful, kind person but she doesn't love Allie like I do. Genetics notwithstanding, I'm her mother. I'm the first person who fed her, tucked her in, held her during thunderstorms, sang to her, and poured my heart and soul into making our family a safe place for her.

Our relationship has improved with family therapy (something Allie abhors but deep down knows it helps). I've slowly begun opening up to her about how it felt for me, all those years where she told me I was a bitch, a terrible person, the worst parent ever.

You hear about moms lifting cars off their children. It sounds ridiculous, but I believe it.

When you love your daughter, their pain is yours. When they push you away, it kills you. When they come home sobbing and slam the door, your heart breaks. When a boy cheats on them, you want to storm over to his house with a shotgun.

I've finally found peace with my daughter, with loving her. She can tolerate me now. I can talk to her in the ways that she wanted all along. We're slowly fixing all the fractures in our old relationship.

I love my daughter, plain and simple.

_Won't let nobody hurt you  
>Won't let no one break your heart<br>And even though you want to, please try to never grow up  
>Oh, don't you ever grow up<br>Oh, never grow up, just never grow up_

Eric Lewis

Most dads have a moment they can talk about. The moment they first held their newborn daughter. I don't. What I _do _have is the story of _my _daughter. I held her for the first time while my wife signed adoption papers. And she punched me right in the face. My daughter, not my wife.

I loved her. Right then and there.

I've met a lot of very rude people who have asked me about adoption. They say things like, "Oh, but you don't love her like she's your _real _daughter, right?" People who think that, they're idiots. Allie is my real daughter. Nowhere in the dictionary does it define family based on genetics. And if it does, screw it.

I've grown with my daughter. I've cried with her. I've hurt with her. I've fought with her, watched movies with her, went to concerts with her.

It's been a journey, diary, and not an easy one. The definition of family is an obscure one with loopholes and exceptions. Nothing's perfect. But let me tell you: as long as you love each other with all your heart, it'll turn out okay. It did for me.

**I think this might be the second-to-last chapter, but let me know in the reviews what you'd like. I thought I should put in some Finchel love since this **_**is **_**a Finchel fic and it's been very focused on other characters and situations.**

**Thank you for reading my writing and being as patient as you have been. You guys are awesome.**

**If any of you think you have friends/fellow fanfic people who would like this story, feel free to direct them here. I always love more followers.**

**Aside from that indulgent self-promotion, even after this story closes, check out my other fics and PM me if you have any requests or want me to somehow continue this story or something. I don't know.**

**Anyway, thanks. Hope you liked it!**


	18. Chapter 18

**Hi guys,**

**So I'm sorry to keep you waiting, but I haven't gotten much feedback on my most recent chapter(s). I'm not sure if you guys want to still read this or what you think of having the final chapter. Is the story ready to close?**

**I know I'm the author and you guys are the readers, but I absolutely value all of your opinions and I'm writing this for you all. I totally get it if you're a reader and not a reviewer, though. I was just wondering, since my views are decreasing and such.**

**Anywho, let me know! I'm thinking that I'll start finalizing the last chapter and post it if I don't get any responses.**

**Thank you so much,**

**~ecb327**


	19. Chapter 19

_Fifteen years later_

Allie

"Well, how do I look?" I ask anxiously, tugging at my hair in the mirror.

"Beautiful," says Delia breathlessly. "You're like a _dream._"

I turn and grin at her. "Thanks, Del."

"Oh, darling," says Mom, getting all misty-eyed. Normally I would slap her in the face, but I've braced myself for this. "You look _gorgeous_." She sighs. I glimpse Delia's expression – raised eyebrows, pursed lips – and suppress a laugh. She'll understand someday.

"Thanks," I say to Mom. I'm feeling choked up as well and frantically blink back tears. Why do you have to wear so much mascara – and eyeliner and foundation and blush and eye shadow and lipstick and so forth – on the most emotional day of your life? Geez.

Okay, happy thoughts. Happy thoughts. For god's sake, I'm getting _married _today. My stomach flip-flops. _I'm getting married._

"Eric?" asks Mom, sniffling and reaching for the Kleenex. "Aren't you going to tell her how pretty she is?"

"You're stunning, Al," he says simply, pulling me into a hug. "I can't believe I'm about to give you away." He coughs, then adds huskily, "I love you so much, sweetie."

"Oh, for crying out loud," mutters Delia. I shoot her a reproachful glance. She giggles.

I see Finn and Rachel peer around the door, and motion for them to come inside. They do.

"Is everything all set?" I ask, clearing my throat. Where have they been? They realize how important it is to me that they're here, as much a part of the experience as my parents, right?

"Everything's all set," says Rachel, smiling at me. It's a sad smile. Nostalgic. God, here come the tears again. I take a deep breath and focus as she continues, "We've already checked in with the florist, caterer, photographer, organist, everything. Now we're just missing a certain headstrong bridesmaid."

Delia groans. "Mo-om."

"Go on, they're all waiting for you. And I think I saw someone special in attendance… a boy named Tom, perhaps?"

"Shut up!" She flushes scarlet. Laughing, I gesture to her, moving over to make room in front of the mirror.

Being biologically related means that our looks share similarities, which I've always yearned for: someone whose features I can identify in relation to my own. You know, "We have the same hair/nose/eyes/voice/et cetera." Well, now I've finally got it, in the shape of a spunky, overly talkative, soon-to-be sophomore sort of sister (we haven't decided on what to call each other yet).

Delia is just as petite as Rachel, but her face and demeanor resembles Finn much more than mine. All three of us have the same smile.

I tug one of her glossy chestnut ringlets. They're naturally curly and frustratingly perfect. Despite this, she's always fidgety around her appearance, plucking at shirt hems and dabbing her cheeks to make sure her makeup is intact. Today, though, her soft brown eyes are shining when she meets my gaze.

"You look great," I tell her. She makes a face and ducks her head, modest as ever.

I reach over and adjust the thin spaghetti strap of her lacy, pale coral dress. We picked it out together. Mom objected at first to the idea of a fifteen-year-old choosing the ensemble of my wedding party, but it meant a lot to Del and it looks splendid on the other bridesmaids.

"Delia?" Rachel says impatiently. She's waiting and I know how much she dislikes when things don't go exactly as planned.

"Go get 'em," I say quickly to Delia, planting a kiss on her head. She prances out of the room, humming.

"Are you ready?" asks Finn. He looks so happy, so proud, that I feel strangely guilty. Who am I to deserve a second father who loves me this much? And Rachel, too. She's so kind and giving to me since we first met. Am I really worthy of all this love?

Not very long ago, I would've flipped out at my parents – and Finn and Rachel – for daring to utter the words "I love you", much less getting all sentimental and showing obvious affection. I'd probably initiate a screaming match, string together some charming obscenities, flip them off, and slam the door sobbing, completely failing to believe that they could truly love me.

Except I'm not that person anymore. I'm Allie, and I'm marrying the love of my life today.

I pull them all into an awkward group hug, feeling a powerful surge of gratitude and, well, love. So much has changed throughout the years. Yet this family (including Delia, of course) has come through for me beyond my wildest expectations, time and time again.

My best friend Madeline pokes her head in. "It's go time," she says.

Mom, Dad, Rachel, and Finn file out of the door and take their seats. I'm bobbing up and down on the balls of my feet now. Oh my god. I think I'm dying. I've never been this anxious before. I mean, this is the day every girl dreams of, and it's… here. Now. Oh my god.

Madeline comes in and takes my hand. "You ready?" she asks.

I look bleakly at her. "I don't know," I confess. "I'm kind of freaking out."

"He loves you," she says matter-of-factly.

She's right. I shut my eyes for a moment, collect my racing thoughts, and nod. "I'm ready," I say. And I am.

Finn

Delia spends the entire wedding reception chatting animatedly with Tom. I look over at her every now and then, feeling protective. From what I've heard, he's a wonderful kid, but you never know. As a dad, the second your daughter becomes even slightly involved with a guy, you're predisposed to think that he's not good enough, or will break her heart, or is rude to his mother, or something.

Once everyone has eaten their fill of wedding cake and mini quiches (I thought they were squished muffins until Rachel explained it to me), the lights dim and music starts playing. Allie and her new husband step out onto the dance floor. It's such an intimate moment that I feel like I'm trespassing.

Rach comes over and lays a hand on my shoulder. "They're a beautiful couple," she says.

"Just like us," I say, wrapping my arm around her waist. After all these years, we still have what those two newlyweds do. It's like a miracle, honestly.

"Just like us," she repeats, leaning down to kiss me. "By the way, Tom asked Delia out." I stiffen. She laughs at the expression on my face. "He's a good egg, Finn. Give him a chance."

I sigh. "Okay."

Other couples start making their way onto the floor. I stand up and offer her my hand. She takes it, looking at me as if we're sixteen again. In my mind, we are. I love her as much as I always have. That isn't going to change, regardless of age.

We start dancing. I'd like to say that my coordination has improved, but barely ten seconds into it, Rachel bursts out laughing.

"What?" I ask, nonplussed.

"Oh, Frankenteen," she says, gazing up at me.

"Hey," I protest, gently brushing a strand of hair off her forehead. She's perfect, and holding her in my arms is all I'll ever want.

"Finchel forever," she whispers.

I squeeze her hand and pull her closer, fitting her against my chest. "Finchel forever," I say.

Over the heads of the other couples, I make eye contact with Eric. He's dancing with Laura, murmuring softly to her, but nods to me in acknowledgement. I smile back, returning the gesture, and look over at Delia, her arms looped around Tom's neck, at the same time as he looks over at Allie. For a moment, Eric and I are in sync. It's a powerful moment. If you asked me why, I couldn't tell you.

The love of a father sure is something.

_Look at the two of you dancing that way  
>Lost in the moment and each other's face<br>So much in love you're alone in this place  
>Like there's nobody else in the world<br>_

_I was enough for her not long ago  
>I was her number one, she told me so<br>And she still means the world to me, just so you know  
>So be careful when you hold my girl<br>Time changes everything, life must go on  
>And I'm not gonna stand in your way<em>

_But I loved her first and I held her first  
>And a place in my heart will always be hers<br>From the first breath she breathed  
>When she first smiled at me<br>I knew the love of a father runs deep  
>And I prayed that she'd find you someday<br>But it still hard to give her away…  
>I loved her first<em>

-I Loved Her First, by Heartland

Rachel_  
><em>Guests begin to leave, one by one. It's getting dark outside and eventually only a handful of us are left. Finn and Eric are off chatting with the other dads.

I stand by myself for a couple minutes, staring into space, until Blaine comes over and says, "You look gorgeous."

"I second that," says Kurt. He's holding their ten-year-old son's hand. Poor Andrew looks like he's about to fall over from tiredness. He waves at me with an endearing smile nonetheless.

"You two don't look half bad," I say. Both of them have aged well; Blaine looks just as dashing as always, in pin-striped trousers matched with a black blazer, light gray blouse, and bowtie. Kurt opted for a simpler suit – he told me awhile ago that kilts are no longer in his repertoire.

"Delia's grown up so much," Blaine adds. She's on the other end of the room going on to Allie about something exciting, as is evident by the rate of her flailing hands, which she uses to talk with much more than a normal person.

"I know," I respond, watching as Tom appears with her sweater. He holds out his hand, introducing himself to Allie and Drew. I frown. "Actually, I'd better go see what she's up to."

"No problem. Give us a call whenever you can. Come on, big boy." Kurt kneels down and lets his son clamber onto his back, where he promptly falls asleep.

"You got him?" asks Blaine.

Kurt adjusts his grasp. "Yep," he says. "Bye, Rach."

"Have a good night," I tell both of them, and start walking over to my daughter. I'm intercepted by Laura.

"How are you?" she asks, looking wistfully at Allie.

"I'm good," I say. "This is probably getting redundant, but what a lovely wedding. You did a fantastic job."

"Don't thank me for anything, I'm just the mom," she replies jokingly. "You'd be surprised at how much of this was all her."

"Oh, I have no doubt," I say. My biological daughter is a remarkable woman.

Drew's arm is around Allie now, his chin notched above her head. Next to them, Delia's chasing Tom around the dance floor. They're both laughing.

"What a beautiful girl," Laura says. "She looks so happy."

"I know," I say. She does.

We stand in silence for a long moment, watching our two daughters. It's funny: our relationship, to this day, has never been defined. Laura and I aren't sisters; we aren't cousins; we aren't best friends. I guess we're just plain family. That's enough for me.

As for the bride… I love Allie in a different way than I'll ever love Delia, and vice versa. Finding my long-lost daughter was incredible and an experience I'll cherish the rest of my life. Raising Delia has been – and still is – amazing. I can't say I feel the same way about Allie as Laura does, and I never will. But the way she feels about her daughter is sure as hell the way I feel about my own.

The four of them – Allie, Drew, Delia, and Tom – come over to us now. Delia is beaming and, to my surprise, throws her arms around me, pecking my cheek. Tom stands to the side, looking self-conscious.

Allie follows suit, hugging Laura and giving her a heartfelt thank you. Both of them start to get slightly emotional.

Drew steps back and says tactfully, "I'll be in the car." He gestures to Tom. "Why don't you come along?" The boy smiles tentatively at me, looks adoringly – rather more than I'm comfortable with, to be honest – at my daughter, then follows Drew outside, talking easily to the man.

"Come on," I say to Del, heading towards the door. "Dad's outside."

"Okay." She's unusually agreeable tonight. At least I know Tom has a good effect on her behavior. "Bye, Al! Text me!" she calls as Allie and her mother start off in the other direction.

I turn around for an instant and Laura and I make brief eye contact. Something unspeakable and unsung passes between us: two women brought together by one girl. The love of a mother is something you won't understand until you have a child, and once you've felt it, there's no going back.

Tom's waiting outside for Delia. She looks at me questioningly and I nod, giving her permission to have just a few more minutes with her new boyfriend.

"Dad and I will drive the car up front," I say. Finn gives me his lopsided smile and I slip my hand into his, fingers intertwined in a bond that will never break.

Slowly, we walk to the parking lot. Halfway there, I feel compelled to look back, and see Tom wrap his arms around my daughter. From around the corner of the building I hear the unmistakable sound of Allie's laugh and know that she's with Drew.

"You okay?" asks Finn.

I'm quiet for a moment, thinking about everything. Life has changed, and will continue to do so. This is just another milestone. The end of a chapter.

How did the chapter begin? We were each of us alone in our own way. Me, Finn, Allie. That's how the story started. _This_ story, at least. Through the crazy things life has thrown at us, we've gradually learned to be together instead of apart. To accept things that are painful, to roll with the punches, and find the answers instead of asking the questions. Tonight, I am no longer on my own.

Finn's watching me, waiting for my reply. "Yeah, I'm okay," I say, and mean it with all my heart.

_I pray you'll be my eyes  
>And watch her where she goes<br>And help her to be wise  
>Help me to let go<em>

_Every mother's prayer  
>Every child knows<br>Lead her to a place  
>Guide her with your grace<br>To a place where she'll be safe_

_I pray she finds your light  
>And holds it in her heart<br>As darkness falls each night  
>Remind her where you are<em>

-A Mother's Prayer, by Celine Dion

**And that's the end.**

**I did it from only Allie, Finn, and Rachel POV because the story is technically a Finchel fic. However, I thought that it was important to include Delia in the story, so I hope you were all okay with that. Obviously it's not perfect but I thought the gist of it tied up the story effectively enough.**

**Anyway, thank you so much for all of your support. You have no idea how great it is.**

**Please, please, **_**please**_** review if you feel comfortable! Even those of you who've been reading and not reviewing. I would love to know what you thought of it, and if you're interested or have any ideas for any other fics – Glee, Finchel, or otherwise.**

**Once again, thank you. I love you guys!**

**~ecb327**


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